Wenchlin 


Lucy  -fttcb  -Perkins 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


PRESENTED  BY 


Richard  E.  Ballard 


SCHOOL  OF  INFORMATION 
AND  LIBRARY  SCIENCE 

THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


ENDOWED  BY  THE 

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UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


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PUBLISHED  BY 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 


THE   PIONEER  TWINS.     Illustrated. 

THE  AMERICAN  TWINS  OF  THE  REVOLU- 
TION.    Illustrated. 

THE  AMERICAN  TWINS  OF  1812.  Illustrated 

THE  COLONIAL  TWINS  OF  VIRGINIA.  Illus- 
trated. 

THE  FILIPINO  TWINS.     Illustrated. 

THE  SWISS  TWINS.     Illustrated. 

THE  PURITAN  TWINS.     Illustrated. 

THE  ITALIAN  TWINS.     Illustrated. 

THE  SPARTAN   TWINS.     Illustrated. 

THE  SCOTCH  TWINS.     Illustrated. 

THE  FRENCH   TWINS.     Illustrated. 

THE  BELGIAN  TWINS.     Illustrated. 

THE  CAVE  TWINS.     Illustrated. 

THE  MEXICAN  TWINS.     Illustrated. 

THE  ESKIMO  TWINS.     Illustrated. 

THE  IRISH    TWINS.     Illustrated. 

THE  JAPANESE  TWINS.     Illustrated. 

THE  DUTCH  TWINS.     Illustrated. 

MR.  CHICK:  His  Travels  and  Adventures.  Il- 
lustrated. 

ROBIN   HOOD.     Illustrated. 

CORNELIA:  The  Story  of  a  Benevolent  De- 
spot.    Illustrated. 


?©v><\S"tcT 

'HelH.n.777.^a§KT'ns 


brave  Children  o(- TYblyjcc 
j 


JV\Of>  of-  ffie-  Vbyo^d 


THE  FRENCH  TWINS  w 


By  Lucy  Fitch  Perkins 


3H 


ILLUSTRATED    BY    THE    AUTHOR 


BOSTON    AND    NEW    YORK 

HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN   COMPANY 

Cbe  KtonrssiSe  tyxttiti  Cambitfjge 


COPYRIGHT,  I918,  BY  LUCY  FITCH  PERKINS 
ALL   RIGHTS    RESERVED 

Published  September  iqi8 


GHje  J&itiersibe  $re*sf 

CAMBRIDGE  .   MASSACHUSETTS 
PRINTED  IN  THE  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


I.   The  Church  and  the  People 
II.   On  the  Way  Home 

III.  The  Coming  of  the  Germans  . 

IV.  The  Return  of  the  French 
V.   At  Madame  Coudert's 

VI.   The  Burning  of  the  Cathedral 
VII.    Home  Again        .... 


25 
•     35 

51 
.     69 

79 
.    89 


111 


VIII.  Refugees 101 

IX.  The  Foreign  Legion 113 

X.  FONTANELLE 1 25 

XI.  A  Surprise 139 

XII.  Morning  in  the  Meadow    .        .        .        .       161 

XIII.  Children  of  the  Legion 183 


1 

THE  CHURCH  AND  THE 
PEOPLE 


y.**i 


l«S!uH 


i«?  Vita . ''  frV.t:/*mH  y  111 

lilillil 


I 

THE  CHURCH  AND  THE 
PEOPLE 

The  sunlight  of  the  clear  September  after- 
noon shone  across  the  roofs  of  the  City  of 
Rheims,  and  fell  in  a  yellow  flood  upon  the 
towers  of  the  most  beautiful  cathedral  in  the 
world,  turning  them  into  two  shining  golden 
pillars  against  the  deep  blue  of  the  eastern 
sky. 

The  streets  below  were  already  in  shadow, 
but  the  sunshine  still  poured  through  the 
great  rose  window  above  the  western  por- 
tal, lighting  the  dim  interior  of  the  church 
with  long  shafts  of  brilliant  reds,  blues,  and 
greens,  and  falling  at  last  in  a  shower  of 
broken  color  upon  the  steps  of  the  high  altar. 
Somewhere  in  the  mysterious  shadows  an 
unseen  musician  touched  the  keys  of  the 
great  organ,  and  the  voice  of  the  Cathedral 


throbbed  through  its  echoing  aisles  in  tremu- 
lous waves  of  sound.  Above  the  deep  tones 
of  the  bass  notes  a  delicate  melody  floated, 
like  a  lark  singing  above  the  surf. 

Though  the  great  church  seemed  empty 
but  for  sound  and  color,  there  lingered 
among  its  shadows  a  few  persons  who  loved 
it  well.  There  were  priests  and  a  few  wor- 
shipers. There  was  also  Father  Varennes, 
the  Verger,  and  far  away  in  one  of  the  small 
chapels  opening  from  the  apse  in  the  east- 
ern end  good  Mother  Meraut  was  down 
upon  her  knees,  not  praying  as  you  might 
suppose,  but  scrubbing  the  stone  floor. 
Mother  Meraut  was  a  wise  woman;  she 
knew  when  to  pray  and  when  to  scrub,  and 
upon  occasion  did  both  with  equal  energy 
to  the  glory  of  God  and  the  service  of  his 
Church.  To-day  it  was  her  task  to  make 
the  little  chapel  clean  and  sweet,  for  was 
not  the  Abbe  coming  to  examine  the  Con- 
firmation Class  in  its  catechism,  and  were 
not  her  own  two  children,  Pierre  and  Pier- 
rette, in  the  class  ?  In  time  to  the  heart-beats 

4 


of  the  organ,  Mother  Meraut  swept  her 
brush  back  and  forth,  and  it  was  already 
near  the  hour  for  the  class  to  assemble  when 
at  last  she  set  aside  her  scrubbing-pail, 
wiped  her  hands  upon  her  apron,  and  began 
to  dust  the  chairs  which  had  been  standing 
outside  the  arched  entrance,  and  to  place 
them  in  orderly  rows  within  the  chapel. 

She  had  nearly  completed  her  task,  when 
there  was  a  tap-tapping  upon  the  stone  floor, 
and  down  the  long  aisle,  leaning  upon  his 
crutch,  came  Father  Varennes.  He  stopped 

5 


near  the  chapel  and  watched  her  as  she 
whisked  the  last  chair  into  place  and  then 
paused  with  her  hands  upon  her  hips  to  make 
a  final  inspection  of  her  work. 

"Bonjour,  Antoinette,"  said  the  Verger. 

Mother  Meraut  turned  her  round,  cheer- 
ful face  toward  him.  "  Ah,  it  is  you,  Henri,  " 
she  cried,  "come,  no  doubt,  to  see  if  the 
chapel  is  clean  enough  for  the  Abbe  I  Well, 
behold." 

The  Verger  peered  through  the  arched 
opening,  and  sniffed  the  wet,  soapy  smell 
which  pervaded  the  air.  "One  might  even 
eat  from  your  clean  floor,  Antoinette,"  he 
said,  smiling,  "and  taste  nothing  worse 
with  his  food  than  a  bit  of  soap.  Truly  the 
chapel  is  as  clean  as  a  shriven  soul." 

"It's  a  bold  bit  of  dirt  that  would  try 
to  stand  out  against  me,"  declared  Mother 
Meraut,  with  a  flourish  of  her  dust-cloth, "  for 
when  I  go  after  it  I  think  to  myself, l  Ah,  if  I 
but  had  one  of  those  detestable  Germans 
by  the  nose,  how  I  would  grind  it !'  and  the 
very  thought  brings  such  power  to  my  elbow 

6 


^^s 


Iff?  i       «  vj-V-UI 

all-    ••(  i>-  V ■»"-* I/. 

IS  ft     Vv>'/fl 


li-ri 


¥ 


i    i     IK    (A 

irn    \    I/-  vS^Jni 


*Bffl?N 


that  I  check  myself  lest  I  wear  through  the 
stones  of  the  floor." 

The  Verger  laughed,  then  shook  his  head. 
"Truly,  Antoinette,"  he  said,  "I  believe  you 


could  seize  your  husband's  gun  if  he  were  to 
fall,  and  fill  his  place  in  the  Army  as  well  as 
you  fill  his  place  here  in  the  Cathedral,  doing 
a  man's  work  with  a  woman's  strength,  and 
smiling  as  if  it  were  but  play !  Our  France 
can  never  despair  while  there  are  women 
like  you." 

"My  Jacques  shall  carry  his  own  gun," 
said  Mother  Meraut,  stoutly,  "and  bring  it 
home  with  him  when  the  war  is  over,  if  God 
wills,  and  may  it  be  soon !  Meanwhile  I  will 
help  to  keep  our  holy  Cathedral  clean  as  he 
used  to  do.  It  is  not  easy  work,  but  one  must 
do  what  one  can,  and  surely  it  is  better  to 
do  it  with  smiles  than  with  tears!" 

The  Verger  nodded.  "That  is  true,"  he 
said,  "yet  it  is  hard  to  smile  in  the  face  of 
sorrow." 

"  But  we  must  smile  —  though  our  hearts 
break — for  France,  and  for  our  children,  lest 
they  forget  joy !  "  cried  Mother  Meraut.  She 
smiled  as  she  spoke,  though  her  lip  trembled. 
"  I  tell  you  the  truth,  Henri,  sometimes  when 
I  think  of  what  the  Germans  have  already 

8 


done  in  Belgium,  and  may  yet  do  in  France, 
I  feel  my  heart  breaking  in  my  bosom.  And 
then  I  say  to  myself,  'Courage,  Antoinette! 
It  is  our  business  to  live  bravely  for  the 
France  that  is  to  be  when  this  madness  is 
over.  Our  armies  are  still  between  us  and 
the  Boche.   It  is  not  time  to  be  afraid.'  " 

"And  I  tell  you,  they  shall  not  pass," 
cried  Father  Varennes,  striking  his  crutch 
angrily  upon  the  stone  floor.  "The  brave 
soldiers  of  France  will  not  permit  it  1  Oh,  if 
I  could  but  carry  a  gun  instead  of  this!" 
He  rattled  his  crutch  despairingly  as  he 
spoke. 

Mother  Meraut  sighed.  "  Though  I  am 
a  woman,  I  too  wish  I  might  fight  the  in- 
vaders," she  said,  "  but  since  I  may  not  carry 
a  gun,  I  will  put  all  the  more  energy  into  my 
broom  and  sweep  the  dirt  from  the  Cathe- 
dral as  I  would  sweep  the  Germans  back  to 
the  Rhine  if  I  could." 

"It  is,  indeed,  the  only  way  for  women, 
children,  and  such  as  I,"  grieved  the  Verger. 

"Tut,    tut,"    answered    Mother    Meraut 


cheerfully,  "it  is  n't  given  us  to  choose  our 
service.  If  God  had  wanted  us  to  fight  he 
would  have  given  us  power  to  do  it." 

The  Verger  shook  his  head.  "  I  wish  I 
were  sure  of  that,"  he  said,  "for  there's 
going  to  be  need  for  all  the  fighting  blood  in 
France  if  half  one  hears  is  true.  They  say 
now  that  the  Germans  are  already  far  over 
the  French  border  and  that  our  Army  is 
retreating  before  them.  The  roads  are  more 
than  ever  crowded  with  refugees,  and  the 
word  they  bring  is  that  the  Germans  have 
already  reached  the  valley  of  the  Aisne." 

"But  that  is  at  our  very  doors  I"  cried 
Mother  Meraut.  "It  is  absurd,  that  rumor. 
Chicken  hearts !  They  listen  to  nothing  but 
their  fears.  As  for  me,  I  will  not  believe  it 
until  I  must.  I  will  trust  in  the  Army  as  I 
do  in  my  God  and  the  holy  Saints." 

"Amen,"  responded  the  Verger  devoutly. 

At  this  moment  the  great  western  portal 
swung  on  its  hinges,  a  patch  of  light  showed 
itself  against  the  gloom  of  the  interior  of  the 
Cathedral,  and  the  sound  of  footsteps  and 

i© 


of  fresh  young  voices  mingled  with  the  tones 
of  the  organ. 

"It's  the  children,  bless  their  innocent 
hearts,"  said  Mother  Meraut.  "I  hear  the 
voices  of  my  Pierre  and  Pierrette." 

"And  I  of  my  Jean,"  said  the  Verger, 
starting  hastily  down  the  aisle.  "The  little 
magpies  forget  they  must  be  quiet  in  the 
House  of  God!"  He  shook  his  finger  at 
them  and  laid  it  warningly  upon  his  lips. 
The  noise  instantly  subsided,  and  it  was  a 
silent  and  demure  little  company  that  tiptoed 
up  the  aisle,  bent  the  knee  before  the  altar, 
and  then  filed  past  Mother  Meraut  into  the 
chapel  which  she  had  made  so  clean. 

Pierre  and  Pierrette  led  the  procession, 
and  Mother  Meraut  beamed  with  pride  as 
they  blew  her  a  kiss  in  passing.  They  were 
children  that  any  mother  might  be  proud 
of.  Pierrette  had  black,  curling  hair  and 
blue  eyes  with  long  black  lashes,  and  Pierre 
was  a  straight,  tall,  and  manly-looking  boy. 
The  Twins  were  nine  years  old. 

Mother  Meraut  knew  many  of  the  chil- 

12 


dren  in  the  Confirmation  Class,  for  they 
were  all  schoolmates  and  companions  of 
Pierre  and  Pierrette.  There  was  Paul,  the 
son  of  the  inn-keeper,  with  Marie,  his  sister. 
There  was  Victor,  whose  father  rang  the 
Cathedral  chimes.  There  were  David  and 

13 


Genevieve,  and  Madeleine  and  Virginie  and 
Etienne,  and  last  of  all  there  was  Jean,  the 
Verger's  son  —  little  Jean,  the  youngest  in 
the  class.  Mother  Meraut  nodded  to  them 
all  as  they  passed. 

Promptly  on  the  fir.  t  stroke  of  the  hour 
the  Abbe  appeared  in  the  north  transept  of 
the  Cathedral  and  made  his  way  with  quick, 
decided  steps  toward  the  chapel.  He  was  a 
young  man  with  thick  dark  hair  almost  con^ 
cealed  beneath  his  black  three-cornered  cap, 
and  as  he  walked,  his  long  black  soutane 
swung  about  him  in  vigorous  folds.  When 
he  appeared  in  the  door  of  the  chapel  the 
class  rose  politely  to  grc  ^t  him.  "Bonjour, 
my  children,"  said  the  Abbe,  and  then,  turn- 
ing his  back  upon  them,  bowed  before  the 
crucifix  upon  the  chapel  altar. 

Mother  Meraut  and  the  Verger  slipped 
quietly  away  to  their  work  in  other  portions 
of  the  church,  and  the  examination  began. 
First  the  Abb£  asked  the  children  to  recite 
the  Lord's  Prayer,  the  Creed,  and  the  Ten 
Commandments  in  unison,  and  when  they 

14 


had  done  this  without  a  mistake,  he  said: 
"Bravo!  Now  I  wonder  if  you  can  each 
do  as  well  alone?  Let  me  see,  I  will  call 
upon — "  He  paused  and  looked  about  as 
if  he  were  searching  for  the  child  who  was 
most  likely  to  do  it  vjell. 

Three  girls  —  Genevieve,  Virginie,  and 
Pierrette — raised  their  hands  and  waved 
them  frantically  in  the  air,  but,  curiously 
enough,  the  A.bbe  did  not  seem  to  see  them. 
Instead  his  glance  fell  upon  Pierre,  who  was 
gazing  thoughtfully  at  the  vaulted  ceiling 
and  hoping  with  all.  his  heart  that  the  Abbe 
would  not  call  upon  him.  "  Pierre ! "  he  said, 
and  any  one  looki-g  at  him  very  closely 
might  have  seen  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  as 
Pierre  withdrew  his  gaze  from  the  ceiling 
and  struggled  reluctantly  to  his  feet.  "  You 
may  recite  the  Ten  Commandments." 

Pierre  began  quite  glibly,  "Thou  shalt 
have  no  other  gods  before  me,"  and  went  on, 
with  only  two  mistakes  and  one  long  wait, 
until  he  had  reached  the  fifth.  "Thou  shalt 
not  kill,"  he  recited,  and  then  to  save  his 

*S 


Hfe  he  could  not  think  what  came  next.  He 
gazed  imploringly  at  the  ceiling  again,  and  at 
the  high  stained-glass  window,  but  they  told 
him  nothing.  He  kicked  backward  gently, 
hoping  that  Pierrette,  who  sat  next,  would 
prompt  him,  but  she  too  failed  to  respond. 
"I'll  ask  a  question,"  thought  Pierre  des- 
perately, "and  while  the  Abbe  is  answering 
maybe  it  will  come  to  me."  Aloud  he  said: 
"  If  you  please,  your  reverence,  I  don't  un- 

16 


derstand  about  that  commandment.  It  says, 
'Thou  shalt  not  kill,'  and  yet  our  soldiers 
have  gone  to  war  on  purpose  to  kill  Ger- 
mans, and  the  priests  blessed  them  as  they 
marched  away !  " 

This  was  indeed  a  question !  The  class 
gasped  with  astonishment  at  Pierre's  bold- 
ness in  asking  it.  The  Abbe  paused  a  mo- 
ment before  answering.  Then  he  said,  "  If 
you,  Pierre,  were  to  shoot  a  man  in  the 
street  in  order  to  take  his  purse,  would  that 
be  wrong?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  whole  class. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  Abbe,  "  so  it  would. 
But  if  you  should  see  a  murderer  attack 
your  mother  or  your  sister,  and  you  should 
kill  him  before  he  could  carry  out  his  wicked 
purpose,  would  that  be  just  the  same  thing?  " 

"No,"  wavered  the  class,  a  little  doubt- 
fully. 

"  If  instead  of  defending  your  mother  or 
sister  you  were  simply  to  stand  aside  and 
let  the  murderer  kill  them  both,  you  would 
really  be  helping  the  murderer,  would  you 

i7 


not?  It  is  like  that  to-day  in  France.  An  en- 
emy is  upon  us  who  seeks  to  kill  us  so  that 
he  may  rob  us  of  our  beautiful  home  land. 
God  sees  our  hearts.  He  knows  that  the 
soldiers  of  France  go  forth  not  to  kill  Ger- 
mans but  to  save  France !  not  wantonly  to 
take  life,  but  because  it  is  the  only  way  to 
save  lives  for  which  they  themselves  are 
ready  to  die.  Ah,  my  children,  it  is  one  thing 
to  kill  as  a  murderer  kills ;  it  is  quite  another 
to  be  willing  to  die  that  others  may  live  ! 
Our  Blessed  Lord — " 

The  Abbe  lifted  his  hand  to  make  the  sign 
of  the  Cross  —  but  it  was  stayed  in  mid-air. 
The  sentence  he  had  begun  was  never  fin- 
ished, for  at  that  moment  the  great  bell  in 
the  Cathedral  tower  began  to  ring.  It  was 
not  the  clock  striking  the  hour ;  it  was  not 
the  chimes  calling  the  people  to  prayer.  In- 
stead, it  was  the  terrible  sound  of  the  alarm 
bell  ringing  out  a  warning  to  the  people 
of  Rheims  that  the  Germans  were  at  their 
doors. 

Wide-eyed  with  terror,  the  children 
18 


4^^, 


/  / 


sprang  from  their  seats,  but  the  Abbe,  with 
hand  uplifted,  blocked  the  entrance  and 
commanded  them  to  stay  where  they  were. 
11  Let  no  one  leave  the  Cathedral,"  he  cried. 
At  this  instant  Mother  Meraut  appeared 

*9 


upon  the  threshold  searching  for  her  chil- 
dren, and  behind  her,  coming  as  fast  as  his 
lameness  would  permit,  came  the  Verger. 
The  Abbe  turned  to  them.  "  I  leave  these 
children  all  in  your  care,"  he  said.  "  Stay 
with  them  until  I  return." 

And  without  another  word  he  disap- 
peared in  the  shadows. 

Mother  Meraut  sat  down  on  one  of  the 
chairs  she  had  dusted  so  carefully,  and  gath- 
ered the  frightened  children  about  her  as  a 
hen  gathers  her  chickens  under  her  wing. 
11  There,  now,"  she  said  cheerfully,  as  she 
wiped  their  tears  upon  the  corner  of  her 
apron,  "  let 's  save  our  tears  until  we  really 
know  what  we  have  to  cry  for.  There  never 
yet  was  misery  that  could  n't  be  made  worse 
by  crying,  anyway.  The  boys  will  be  brave, 
of  course,  whatever  happens.  And  the  girls 
—  surely  they  will  remember  that  it  was 
a  girl  who  once  saved  France,  and  meet 
misfortune  bravely,  like  our  blessed  Saint 
Jeanne  d'Arc." 

The  Cathedral  organ  had  ceased  to  fill 
20 


the  great  edifice  with  sweet  and  inspiring 
sounds.  Instead,  there  now  was  only  the 
muffled  tread  of  marching  feet,  the  rumble 
of  heavy  wheels,  and  the  low,  ominous  beat- 
ing of  drums  to  break  the  stillness. 

Mother  Meraut  and  the  children  waited 
obediently  in  the  chapel,  scarcely  breathing 
in  their  suspense,  while  Father  Varennes 
went  tap-tapping  up  and  down  the  aisles 
eagerly  watching  for  the  Abbe  to  reappear. 
At  last  he  came.  Mother  Meraut,  the  Ver- 
ger, and  the  children  all  crowded  about  him, 
waiting  breathlessly  for  him  to  speak. 

The  Abbe  was  pale,  but  his  voice  was 
firm.  "  I  have  been  to  the  north  tower,"  he 
said,  "and  there  I  could  see  for  miles  in 
every  direction.  Far  away  to  the  east  and 
north  are  massed  the  hordes  of  the  German 
Army ;  they  are  coming  toward  Rheims  as 
a  thunder-cloud  comes  rolling  over  the  sky. 
Between  us  and  them  is  our  Army,  but  alas, 
their  faces  are  turned  this  way.  They  are 
retreating  before  the  German  hosts!  Al- 
ready French  troops  are  marching  through 

21 


Rheims ;  already  the  streets  are  filled  with 
people  who  are  fleeing  from  their  homes  for 
fear  of  the  Boche.  Unless  God  sends  a  mir- 
acle, our  City  is  indeed  doomed,  for  a  time 
at  least,  to  wear  the  German  yoke." 

He  paused,  and  the  children  burst  into 
wild  weeping.  Mother  Meraut  hushed  them 
with  comforting  words.  "Do  not  cry,  my 
darlings,"  she  said.  "God  is  not  dead,  and 
we  shall  yet  live  to  see  justice  done  and  our 
dear  land  restored  to  us.  The  soldiers  now 
in  the  streets  are  all  our  own  brave  defend- 
ers. We  shall  be  able  to  go  in  safety,  even 
though  in  sorrow,  to  our  homes." 

"  Come,"  said  the  Abbe,  "  there  is  no  time 
to  lose.  Our  Army  will,  without  doubt,  make 
a  stand  on  the  plains  west  of  the  City,  and  it 
will  not  be  long  before  the  Germans  pass 
through.  You  must  go  to  your  homes  as 
fast  as  possible.  Henri,  you  remain  here 
with  your  Jean,  that  you  may  meet  any  of 
the  parents  who  come  for  their  children.  Tell 
them  I  have  gone  with  them  myself  and  will 
deliver  each  child  safely  at  his  own  door." 

22 


" 1  can  take  care  of  my  own,"  said  Mother 
Meraut.    "You  need  have  no  fear  for  us." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  Abbe,  and,  calling 
the  rest  of  the  children  about  him,  he  marched 
them  down  the  aisle  and  out  into  the  street. 

Mother  Meraut  followed  with  Pierre  and 
Pierrette.  At  the  door  they  paused  and 
stood  for  a  moment  under  the  great  sculp- 
tured arches  to  survey  the  scene  before  them. 
The  great  square  before  the  Cathedral  was 
filled  with  people,  some  weeping,  others 
standing  about  as  if  dazed  by  sorrow.  Be- 
tween the  silent  crowds  which  lined  the  side- 
walks passed  the  soldiers,  grim  and  with 
set  faces,  keeping  time  to  the  throbbing  of 
the  drums  as  they  marched.  Above  the 
scene,  in  the  center  of  the  square,  towered 
the  beautiful  statue  of  Jeanne  d?  Arc,  mounted 
upon  her  charger  and  lifting  her  sword 
toward  the  sky. 

"  Ah,"  murmured  Mother  Meraut  to  her- 
self, "our  blessed  Maid  still  keeps  guard 
above  the  City  I "  She  lifted  her  clasped  hands 
toward  the  statue.  "  Blessed  Saint  Jeanne," 

23 


she  prayed,  "  hear  us  in  Paradise,  and  come 
once  more  to  save  our  beautiful  France!" 
Then,  waving  a  farewell  to  the  Verger 
and  Jean,  who  had  followed  them  to  the 
door,  she  took  her  children  by  the  hand  and 
plunged  with  them  into  the  sad  and  silent 
crowd. 


II 

ON  THE  WAY  HOME 


#%4D  fe)' 


\\  \   \ 


'« r  m 


II 

ON  THE  WAY  HOME 

For  some  time  after  leaving  the  Cathedral, 
Mother  Meraut  and  the  Twins  lingered  in 
the  streets,  forgetful  of  everything  but  the 
retreating  Army  and  the  coming  invasion. 
Everywhere  there  were  crowds  surging  to 
and  fro.  Some  were  hastening  to  close  their 
places  of  business  and  put  up  their  shutters 
before  the  Germans  should  arrive.  Some 
were  hurrying  through  the  streets  carrying 
babies  and  bundles.  Others  were  wheeling 
their  few  belongings  upon  barrows  or  in 
baby-carriages.  Still  others  flew  by  on  bi- 
cycles with  packages  of  clothing  fastened  to 
the  handle-bars ;  and  there  were  many  auto- 
mobiles loaded  to  the  brim  with  household 
goods  and  fleeing  families. 

Doors  were  flung  open  and  left  swinging 
on  their  hinges  as  people  escaped,  scarcely 

27 


looking  behind  them  as  they  fled.  These 
were  refugees  from  Rheims  itself.  There 
were  many  others  wearily  plodding  through 
the  City,  people  who  had  come  from  Bel- 
gium and  the  border  towns  of  France.  Some 
who  had  come  from  farms  drove  pitiful  cat- 
tle before  them,  and  some  journeyed  in  farm 
wagons,  with  babies  and  old  people,  chick- 
ens, dogs,  and  household  goods  mixed  in 
a  heap  upon  beds  of  straw.  In  all  the  City 
there  was  not  a  cheerful  sight,  and  every- 
where, above  all  other  sounds,  were  heard 
the  rumble  of  wheels,  the  sharp  clap-clap 
of  horses'  hoofs  upon  the  pavement,  and  the 
steady  beat  of  marching  feet. 

At  last,  weary  and  heartsick,  the  three 
wanderers  turned  into  a  side  street  and 
stepped  into  a  little  shop  where  food  was 
sold.  "We  must  have  some  supper,"  said 
Mother  Meraut  to  the  Twins,  "  Germans  or 
no  Germans !  One  cannot  carry  a  stout  heart 
above  an  empty  stomach !  And  if  it  is  to  be 
our  last  meal  in  French  Rheims,  let  us  at 
least  make  it  a  good  one!"  Though  there 

28 


was  a  catch  in  her  voice,  she  smiled  almost 
gaily  as  she  spoke.  "Who  knows?"  she 
went  on.  "Perhaps  after  to-morrow  we 
shall  be  able  to  get  nothing  but  sauerkraut 
and  sausage!" 

The  shop  was  not  far  from  the  little  home 
of  the  Merauts,  and  they  often  bought  things 
of  stout  Madame  Coudert,  whose  round  face 
with  its  round  spectacles  rose  above  the 
counter  like  a  full  moon  from  behind  a  cloud. 
"  Ah,  mon  amie,"  said  Mother  Meraut  as  she 
entered  the  shop,  "  it  is  good  to  see  you  sit- 
ting in  your  place  and  not  running  away 
like  a  hare  before  the  hounds  I" 

Madame  Coudert  shrugged  her  shoulders. 
"  But  of  what  use  is  it  to  run  when  one  has 
no  place  to  run  to?"  she  demanded.  "As 
for  me,  I  stay  by  the  shop  and  die  at  least 
respectably  among  my  own  cakes  and  pies. 
To  run  through  the  country  and  die  at  last 
in  a  ditch  — it  would  not  suit  me  at  all  I  " 

"Bravo,"  cried  Mother  Meraut  triumph- 
antly. "Just  my  own  idea!  My  children  and 
I  will  remain  in  our  home  and  take  what 

29 


comes,  rather  than  leap  from  the  frying-pan 
into  the  fire  as  so  many  are  doing.  If  every 
one  runs  away,  there  will  be  no  Rheims  at 
all."  Then  to  Pierre  and  Pierrette  she  said : 
"Choose,  each  of  you.  What  shall  we  buy 
for  our  supper? " 

3° 


Pierre  pointed  a  grimy  finger  at  a  small 
cake  with  pink  frosting.  "That,"  he  said 
briefly. 

His  mother  smiled.  "Ah,  Pierre,  that 
sweet  tooth  of  yours! "  she  cried.  "Like 
Marie  Antoinette  you  think  if  one  lacks 
bread  one  may  eat  cakes !  And  now  it  is 
Pierrette's  turn;  only  be  quick,  ma  mie,  for 
it  is  already  late." 

"Eggs,"  said  Pierrette  promptly,  "for 
one  of  your  savory  omelets,  mamma,  and 
a  bit  of  cheese." 

The  purchases  were  quickly  made,  and, 
having  said  good-night  to  Madame  Coudert, 
they  hurried  on  to  the  little  house  in  the 
Rue  Charly  where  they  lived.  When  they 
reached  home,  it  was  already  quite  dark. 
Mother  Meraut  hastened  up  the  steps  and 
unlocked  the  door,  and  in  less  time  than  it 
takes  to  tell  it  her  bonnet  was  off,  the  fire 
was  burning,  and  the  omelet  was  cooking 
on  the  stove. 

Pierrette  set  the  table.  "I'm  going  to 
place   father's   chair  too,"  she  said  to   her 

3i 


mother.  "He  is  no  doubt  thinking  of  us  as 
we  are  of  him,  and  it  will  make  him  seem 
nearer." 

Mother  Meraut  nodded  her  head  without 
speaking,  and  wiped  her  eyes  on  her  apron 
as  she  slid  the  omelet  on  to  a  hot  plate. 
Then  she  seated  herself  opposite  the  empty 
chair  and  with  a  steady  voice  prayed  for  a 
blessing  upon  the  food  and  upon  the  Armies 
of  France. 

When  they  had  finished  supper,  cleared 
it  away,  and  put  the  kitchen  in  order,  Mother 
Meraut  pointed  to  the  clock.  "Voila!"  she 
cried, ' '  hours  past  your  bedtime,  and  here  you 
are  still  flapping  about  like  two  young  owls! 
To  bed  with  you  as  fast  as  you  can  go." 

"But,  Mother,"  began  Pierre. 

"  Not  a  single  '  but,' "  answered  his 
Mother,  wagging  her  finger  at  him.  "  Va !  " 

The  children  knew  protest  was  useless, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  they  were  snugly 
tucked  away.  Long  after  they  were  both 
sound  asleep,  their  Mother  sat  with  her 
head  bowed  upon  the  table,  listening,   lis- 

32 


f        tj  hi 

••'#■  ^  '1 1$ 


^~L  ■«=«** 


V  y 


tening  to  the  distant  sound  of  marching  feet. 
At  last,  worn  out  with  grief  and  anxiety,  she 
too  undressed,  said  her  rosary,  and,  after  a 
long  look  at  her  sleeping  children,  blew  out 
the  candle  and  crept  into  bed  beside  Pierrette. 
Silence  and  darkness  settled  down  upon 
the  little  household,  and,  for  a  time  at  least, 
their  sorrows  were  forgotten  in  the  blessed 
oblivion  of  sleep. 


Ill 

THE  COMING  OF  THE 
GERMANS 


fa 

lite  fti\ 


Ski  1        »a^£<  p 


Ill 

THE  COMING  OF  THE 
GERMANS 

When  the  Twins  opened  their  eyes  the  next 
morning,  the  first  thing  they  saw  was  the 
sun  shining  in  at  the  eastern  window  of  the 
kitchen,  and  Mother  Meraut  bending  over 
the  fire.  There  was  a  smell  of  chocolate  in 
the  air,  and  on  the  table  there  were  rolls  and 
butter.  Pierre  yawned  and  rubbed  his  eyes. 
Pierrette  sat  up  and  tried  to  think  what  it 
was  she  was  so  unhappy  about ;  sleep  had, 
for  the  time  being,  swept  the  terrors  of  the 
night  quite  out  of  her  mind.  In  an  instant 
more  the  fearful  truth  rolled  over  her  like  a 
wave,  and  she  sank  back  upon  the  pillow 
with  a  little  moan. 

Her  Mother  heard  and  understood.  She 
too  had  waked  from  sleep  to  sorrow,  but 
she  only   cried  out  cheerfully,   "Bonjour, 

37 


my  sleepy  heads  I  Last  night  you  did  not 
want  to  go  to  your  beds  at  all.  This  morning 
you  wish  not  to  leave  them !  Hop  into  your 
clothes  as  fast  as  you  can,  or  we  shall  be  late." 

"  Late  where  ?  "  asked  Pierre. 

"To  my  work  at  the  Cathedral,  to  be 
sure,"  answered  Mother  Meraut  promptly. 
"Where  else  ?  Did  you  think  the  Germans 
would  make  me  sit  at  home  and  cry  for  ter- 
ror while  my  work  waits  ?  Whoever  rules 
in  Rheims,  the  Cathedral  still  stands  and 
must  be  kept  clean." 

It  was  wonderful  how  the  dismal  world 
brightened  to  Pierre  and  Pierrette  as  they 
heard  their  Mother's  brave  voice.  They  flew 
out  of  bed  at  once  and  were  dressed  in  a 
twinkling. 

While  they  ate.  their  breakfast,  Pierre 
thought  of  a  plan.  "We  ought  to  take  a 
lot  of  food  with  us  to-day,"  he  said  to  his 
Mother.  "There's  no  telling  what  may 
happen  before  night.  Maybe  we  can't  get 
home  at  all  and  shall  have  to  sleep  in  the 
Cathedral." 

38 


"Oh,"  shuddered  Pierrette,  "among  all 
those  tombs?" 

"  There  are  worse  places  where  one 
might  sleep,"  said  the  Mother.  "The  dead 
are  less  to  be  feared  than  the  living,  and 
the  Cathedral  is  the  safest  place  in  Rheims." 
She  brought  out  a  wicker  basket  and  be- 
gan to  pack  it  with  food  as  she  talked. 
First  she  put  in  two  pots  of  jam.  "  There," 
said  she,  "that's  the  jam  Grandmother 
made  from  her  gooseberries  at  the  farm." 

She  paused,  struck  by  a  new  alarm. 
Her  father  and  mother  lived  in  a  tiny  vil- 
lage far  west  of  Rheims.  What  if  the  Ger- 
mans should  succeed  in  getting  so  far  as 
that  ?  What  would  become  of  them  ?  She 
shut  her  fears  in  her  breast,  saying  nothing 
to  the  children,  and  went  on  filling  the 
basket.  "  Here  is  a  bit  of  cheese  left  from 
last  night.  I  '11  put  that  in,  and  a  pat  of 
butter,"  she  said;  "but  we  must  stop  at 
Madame  Coudert's  for  more  bread.  You 
two  little  pigs  have  eaten  every  scrap  there 
was  in  the  house." 

39 


"There  are  eggs  left,"  suggested  Pier- 
rette. 

"  So  there  are,  ma  mie,"  said  her  Mother. 
"We  will  boil  them  all  and  take  them  with 
us.  There's  a  great  deal  of  nourishment 
in  eggs."  She  flew  to  get  the  saucepan, 
and  while  the  eggs  bubbled  and  boiled  on 
the  stove,  she  and  the  children  set  the  little 
kitchen  in  order  and  got  themselves  ready 
for  the  street. 

It  was  after  nine  o'clock  when  at  last 
Mother  Meraut  took  the  basket  on  her  arm 
and  gave  Pierrette  her  knitting  to  carry, 
and  the  three  started  down  the  steps. 

"  Everything  looks  just  the  same  as  it 
did  yesterday,"  said  Pierrette  as  they  walked 
down  the  street.  "There's  that  little  rav- 
eled-out  dog  that  always  barks  at  Pierre, 
and  there  's  Madame  Coudert's  cat  asleep 
on  the  railing,  just  as  she  always  is." 

"Yes,"  said  Mother  Meraut,  with  a  sigh, 
"the  cats  and  dogs  are  the  same,  it  is  only 
the  people  who  are  different !  " 

They  entered  the  shop  and  exchanged 
40 


greetings  with  Madame  Coudert,  They  had 
bought  a  long  loaf  of  bread,  and  Mother 
Meraut  was  just  opening  her  purse  to  pay 
for  it,  when  suddenly  a  shot  rang  out.  It 
was  followed  by  the  rattle  of  falling  tiles. 
Another  and  another  came,  and  soon  there 
was  a  perfect  rain  of  shot  and  shell. 

"  It  is  the  Germans  knocking  at  the  door 
of  Rheims  before  they  enter,"  remarked 
Madame  Coudert  with  grim  humor.  "  I 
did  not  expect  so  much  politeness!  " 

Mother  Meraut  did  not  reply.  For  once 
her  cheerful  tongue  found  nothing  comfort- 
ing to  say.  Pierre  clung  to  her  arm,  and 
Pierrette  put  her  fingers  in  her  ears  and  hid 
her  face  against  her  Mother's  breast. 

For  some  time  the  deafening  sounds  con- 
tinued. From  the  window  they  could  see 
people  running  for  shelter  in  every  direc- 
tion. A  man  came  dashing  down  the  street, 
dodging  falling  tiles  as  he  ran,  and  burst 
into  Madame  Coudert's  shop.  He  had  just 
come  from  the  Rue  Colbert  and  had  news 
to  tell.    "  The  Boches  have  sent  an  emis- 

4i 


sary  to  the  Mayor  to  demand  huge  supplies 
of  provisions  from  the  City,  and  a  great 
sum  of  money  besides,"  he  told  them,  as 
he  gasped  for  breath.  "They  are  shelling 
the  champagne  cellars  and  the  public  build- 
ings of  the  City  to  scare  us  into  giving  them 
what  they  demand.  The  German  Army  will 
soon  be  here." 

In  a  few  moments  there  was  a  lull  in  the 
roar  of  the  guns,  and  then  in  the  distance 
another  sound  was  heard.  It  was  a  mighty 
song  of  triumph  as  the  conquerors  came 
marching  into  Rheims ! 

"There  won't  be  any  more  shooting  for 
a  while  anyway,"  said  the  stranger,  who 
had  now  recovered  his  breath.  "They 
won't  shell  the  City  while  it's  full  of  their 
own  men.  I  'm  going  to  see  them  come 
in." 

All  Pierre's  fears  vanished  in  an  instant. 
"  Come  on,"  he  cried,  wild  with  excitement, 
"let  us  go  too." 

"I  '11  not  stir  a  foot  from  my  shop,"  said 
Madame  Coudert  firmly.    "I  don't  want  to 

42 


see  the  Germans,  and  if  they  want  to  see 
me,  they  can  come  where  I  am." 

But  Pierre  had  not  waited  for  a  reply, 
from  her  or  any  one  else.  He  was  already 
running  up  the  street. 

"  Catch  him,  catch  him,"  gasped  Mother 
Meraut. 

Pierrette  dashed  after  Pierre,  and  as  she 
could  run  like  the  wind,  she  soon  caught 

43 


up  with  him  and  seized  him  by  the  skirt  of 
his  blouse.  "Stop!  stop!"  she  screamed. 
"  Mother  does  n't  want  you  to  go." 

But  she  might  as  well  have  tried  to  argue 
with  a  hurricane.  Pierre  danced  up  and 
down  with  rage,  as  Pierrette  braced  herself, 
and  firmly  anchored  him  by  his  blouse. 
11  Leggo,  leggo !  "  he  shrieked.  "  I'm  going, 
I  tell  you !  I  'm  not  afraid  of  any  Germans 
alive." 

Just  then,  panting  and  breathless,  Mother 
Meraut  arrived  upon  the  scene.  While  Pier- 
rette held  on  to  his  blouse,  she  attached  her- 
self to  his  left  ear.  It  had  a  very  calming 
effect  upon  Pierre.  He  stopped  tugging  to 
get  away  lest  he  lose  his  ear. 

"Foolish  boy,"  said  his  Mother,  "see 
how  much  trouble  you  give  me!  You  shall 
see  the  Germans,  but  you  shall  not  run 
away  from  me.  If  we  should  get  separated, 
God  only  knows  whether  we  should  ever 
find  each  other  again." 

The  music  had  grown  louder  and  louder, 
and  was  now  very  near.  "  I'll  stay  with  you, 

44 


if  you  '11  only  go,"  pleaded  Pierre,  "  but  you 
aren't  even  moving." 

"Come,  Pierrette,"  said  his  Mother,  "take 
hold  of  his  left  arm.  I  will  attend  to  his 
right;  he  might  forget  again.  What  he  really 
needs  is  a  bit  and  bridle!" 

The  three  moved  up  the  street,  Pierre 
chafing  inwardly,  but  helpless  in  his  Moth- 
er's grasp,  and  at  the  next  crossing  the  great 
spectacle  burst  upon  them.  A  whole  regi- 
ment of  cavalry  was  passing,  singing  at  the 
top  of  their  lungs,  "  Lieb'  Vaterland,  macht 
ruhig  sein."  The  sun  glistened  on  their  hel- 
mets, and  the  clanking  of  swords  and  the 
jingling  of  spurs  kept  time  with  the  swell- 
ing chorus.  After  the  cavalry  came  soldiers 
on  foot  —  miles  of  them. 

"Oh,"  murmured  Pierrette,  clinging  to 
her  Mother,  "  it 's  like  a  river  of  men !  " 

Her  Mother  did  not  answer.  Pierrette 
looked  up  into  her  face.  The  tears  were 
streaming  down  her  cheeks,  but  her  head 
was  proudly  erect.  She  looked  at  the  other 
French   people  about  them.    There  were 

45 


tears  on  many  cheeks,  but  not  a  head  was 
bowed.  Pierre  was  glaring  at  the  troops  and 
muttering  through  his  teeth  :  "Just  you  wait 
till  I  grow  up!  I  '11  make  you  pay  for  this, 
you  pirates!   I  '11 —  " 

"  Hush !  "  whispered  Pierrette.  "  Suppose 
they  should  hear  you!" 

"I  don't  care  if  they  do!  I  wish  they 
would  !  "  raged  Pierre.   "I  'm  going — " 

But  the  German  Army  was  destined  not 
to  suffer  the  consequences  of  Pierre's  wrath. 
He  did  not  even  have  a  chance  to  tell  Pier- 
rette his  plan  for  their  destruction,  for  at 
this  point  his  Mother,  unable  longer  to  en- 
dure the  sight,  dragged  him  forcibly  from 
the  scene.  "They  shall  not  parade  their 
colors  before  me,"  she  said  firmly,  "  I  will 
not  stand  still  and  look  in  silence  upon  my 
conquerors  !  If  I  could  but  face  them  with 
a  gun,  that  would  be  different!" 

She  led  the  children  through  a  maze  of 
small  streets  by  a  roundabout  way  to  the 
Cathedral,  and  there  they  were  met  at  the 
entrance  by  the  Verger,  who  gazed  at  them 

46 


with  sad  surprise.  "You  've  been  out  in 
the  street  during  the  bombardment,"  he 
said  reproachfully.  "  It's  just  like  you, 
Antoinette." 

"  Oh,  but  how  was  I  to  know  it  was  com- 
ing ?  "  cried  Mother  Meraut.  "  We  left  home 
before  it  began!  " 

"  It  would  have  been  just  the  same  if  you 
had  known,"  scolded  the  Verger.  "Germans 
or  devils  —  it  would  make  no  difference  to 
•you!  You  have  no  fear  in  you." 

"You  misjudge  me,"  cried  Mother  Me- 
raut ;  "but  what  good  would  it  do  to  sit  and 
quake  in  my  own  house  ?  There  is  no  safety 
anywhere,  and  here  at  least  there  is  work 
to  do." 

"You  can  go  about  your  work  as  usual 
with  the  noise  of  guns  ringing  in  your 
ears  and  the  Germans  marching  through 
Rheims?"  exclaimed  the  Verger. 

"Why  not?"  answered  Mother  Meraut, 
with  spirit.  "I  guess  our  soldiers  don't 
knock  off  work  every  time  a  gun  goes  off  or 
a  few  Germans  come  in  sight !   It  would  be 

47 


a  shame  if  we  could  not  follow  their  ex- 
ample!" 

"Antoinette,  you  are  a  wonderful  woman. 
I  have  always  said  so,"  declared  the  Ver- 
ger solemnly.  "  You  are  as  brave  as  a 
man ! " 

"Pooh!"  said  Mother  Meraut,  mock- 
ingly. "  As  if  the  men,  bless  their  hearts, 
were  so  much  braver  than  women,  any- 
way! Oh,  la!  la!  the  conceit  of  you!"  She 
wagged  a  derisive  finger  at  the  Verger,  and, 
calling  the  children,  went  to  get  her  scrub- 
bing-pail  and  brushes. 

All  day  long,  while  distant  guns  roared, 
she  went  about  her  daily  tasks,  keeping 
one  spot  of  order  and  cleanliness  in  the 
midst  of  the  confusion,  disorder,  and  de- 
struction of  the  invaded  city.  The  Twins 
were  busy,  too;  their  Mother  saw  to  that. 
They  dusted  chairs  and  placed  them  in 
rows,  and  at  noon  they  found  a  corner 
where  the  light  falling  through  one  of  the 
beautiful  stained-glass  windows  made  a 
spot  of  cheerful   color  in  the  gloom,  and 

48 


there  they  ate  part  of  the  lunch  which  they 
had  packed  in  the  wicker  basket.  During 
all  the  excitement  of  the  morning  they  had 
not  forgotten  the  lunch ! 

When  the  day's  work  was  done,  they 
ventured  out  upon  the  streets  in  the  gather- 
ing dusk.  They  found  them  full  of  German 
soldiers,  drinking,  swaggering,  singing,  and 
they  saw  many  strange  and  terrifying  sights 

49 


in  the  havoc  wrought  by  the  first  bombard- 
ment. As  they  passed  the  door  of  Madame 
Coudert's  shop,  they  peeped  in  and  saw 
her  sitting  stolidly  behind  the  counter, 
knitting. 

"Oh,"  said  Pierrette,  "doesn't  it  seem 
like  a  year  since  we  were  here  this  morn- 
ing? 

Mother  Meraut  called  out  a  cheerful 
greeting  to  Madame  Coudert  "Still  in 
your  place,  I  see,"  she  said. 

"  Like  the  Pyramids,"  came  the  calm 
answer ;  and,  cheered  by  her  fortitude,  they 
hurried  on  their  way  to  the  little  house  in 
the  Rue  Charly. 

Mother  Meraut  sighed  with  relief  as  she 
unlocked  the  door.  "Everything  just  as 
we  left  it,"  she  said.  "We  at  least  shall 
have  one  more  night  in  our  own  home." 
Then  she  drew  the  children  into  the  shelter 
of  the  dear,  familiar  roof  and  locked  the 
door  from  the  inside. 


IV 
THE  RETURN  OF  THE  FRENCH 


IV 

THE  RETURN  OF  THE  FRENCH 

One  unhappy  day  followed  upon  another 
for  the  inhabitants  of  Rheims.  Each  night 
they  went  to  bed  in  terror;  each  morning 
they  rose  to  face  new  trials  and  dangers. 
Yet  their  spirit  did  not  fail.  Each  day  the 
roar  of  guns  toward  the  west  grew  fainter 
and  more  distant,  and  the  people  knew 
with  sinking  hearts  that  the  Germans  had 
driven  the  Armies  of  France  farther  and 
farther  back  toward  Paris.  Each  day  the 
conduct  of  the  conquerors  grew  more  arro- 
gant. "Our  Emperor  will  soon  be  inParis!" 
they  said. 

On  the  public  monuments  and  in  the 
squares  of  the  City  appeared  German  proc- 
lamations printed  upon  green  paper,  warn- 
ing the  people  of  Rheims  of  terrible  pun- 
ishments which  would  befall  them  if  they 

S3 


in  any  way  rebelled  against  the  will  of  the 
victorious  invaders.  It  was  only  with  great 
difficulty  that  Pierre  could  be  dragged  by 
these  signs.  Each  morning  as  they  went 
to  the  Cathedral  they  had  to  pass  several 
of  them,  and  Pierrette  and  her  Mother  soon 
learned  to  take  precautions  against  an  out- 
burst of  rage  which  might  bring  down  upon 
his  rash  head  the  wrath  of  the  enemy.  The 
eye  of  the  Germans  seemed  everywhere. 
One  of  these  posters  was  fixed  to  the  win- 
dow of  Madame  Coudert's  shop.  On  the 
morning  that  it  first  appeared,  Pierre  in 
passing  made  a  dash  for  the  gutter,  picked 
up  a  handful  of  mud,  and  threw  it  squarely 
into  the  middle  of  the  poster. 

Madame  Coudert  saw  him,  and  winked 
solemnly,  but  did  not  move.  His  Mother 
instantly  collared  Pierre,  and  led  him  up  a 
side  street  Justin  time  to  escape  the  clutches 
of  a  German  officer  who  had  seen  him  a 
block  away,  and  came  on  the  run  after  him. 
When,  puffing  and  blowing,  he  at  last 
reached  the  shop  there  was  no  one  in  sight 

54 


except  Madame  Coudert  behind  her  coun- 
ter. The  enraged  officer  pointed  out  the 
insult  that  had  been  offered  his  country. 

Madame  Coudert  looked  surprised  and 
concerned.  She  followed  the  officer  to  the 
door,  and  gazed  at  the  disfigured  poster. 
"I  will  clean  it  at  once,"  she  said  obligingly. 
She  got  out  soap  and  a  brush  immediately, 
and  when  she  had  finished,  her  work  had 
been  so  thoroughly  done  that  not  a  spot  of 
mud  was  left,  but  unfortunately  the  center 
of  the  poster  was  rubbed  through  and  quite 
illegible,  and  the  rest  of  it  was  all  streaked 
and  stained !  "  Will  that  do  ?  "  she  asked  the 
officer,  looking  at  him  with  round,  innocent 
eyes  and  so  evident  a  desire  to  please  that, 
in  spite  of  an  uneasy  suspicion,  he  merely 
grunted  and  went  his  way. 

The  first  time  they  came  into  the  shop 
after  this  episode  Madame  Coudert  gave 
Pierre  a  cake  with  pink  frosting  on  it. 

In  this  way  a  whole  week  dragged  itself 
by,  and,  on  the  morning  of  the  eighth  day 
after  the  German  entry  into  Rheims,  Mother 

55 


Meraut  and  the  Twins  left  home  earlier  than 
usual  in  order  to  reach  the  Cathedral  before 
the  bombardment,  which  they  had  learned 
daily  to  expect,  should  begin.  They  found 
Madame  Coudert  in  front  of  her  shop,  wash- 
ing the  window.  A  large  corner  of  the  poster 
was  now  gone.  "It  rained  last  night,"  she 
said  to  Mother  Meraut,  "and  the  green 
color  ran  down  on  my  window.  I  had  to 
wash  it,  and  accidentally  I  rubbed  off  a  cor- 
ner of  the  poster.  It  can't  be  very  good  pa- 
per." She  looked  solemnly  at  Pierre.  "Too 
bad,  is  n't  it  ?  "  she  said,  and  closed  one  eye 
behind  her  round  spectacles. 

"The  weather  seems  to  have  damaged 
a  good  many  of  them,  I  notice,"  answered 
Mother  Meraut,  with  just  a  suspicion  of  a 
smile.  "The  weather  has  been  quite  pleas- 
ant too,  — strange  !  " 

' '  Weather — nothing ! ' '  said  Pierre,  scorn- 
fully.  "I'll  bet  you  that  —  " 

It  seemed  as  if  Pierre  was  always  being 
interrupted  at  just  the  most  exciting  moment 
of  his  remarks,  but  this  time  he  interrupted 

56 


himself.  "  What's  that?"  he  said,  stopping 
short.  Madame  Coudert,  his  Mother,  and 
Pierrette,  all  stood  perfectly  still,  their  eyes 
wide,  their  lips  parted,  listening,  listening! 
They  heard  cannon-shots,  then  music  — 
toward  the  west  —  coming  nearer — nearer. 

"It  is  —  oh,  it  is  the  Marseillaise  1 " 
shrieked  Pierrette. 

Mother  Meraut  and  the  Twins  ran  toward 
the  sound.  Now  shouts  were  heard  —  joy- 
ous shouts  —  from  French  throats!  Never 
had  they  heard  such  a  sound  I  People  came 
tumbling  out  of  their  houses,  some  not 
fully  dressed  —  but  who  cared  ?  The  French 
were  returning  victorious  from  the  battle 
of  the  Marne.  They  were  coming  again  into 
Rheims,  driving  the  Germans  before  them  1 
Ah,  but  when  the  red  trousers  actually  ap- 
peared in  the  streets  the  populace  went  mad 
with  joy  !  They  embraced  the  soldiers  ;  they 
marched  beside  them  with  tears  streaming 
down  their  cheeks,  singing  "  March  onl 
March  on ! "  as  though  they  would  split 
their  throats.  Pierre  and  Pierrette  marched 

57 


/  /  / 


/     i    I     I   r? 


f     iff    n/  wl   >  '3?<FP^    «£&*> 


'    f  ri'l! 


^^m  Mfiililfli 


and  sang  with  the  others,  their  Mother  close 
beside  them. 

53 


On  And  on  came  the  singing,  joy-mad- 
dened people,  right  past  Madame  Coudert's 
shop,  and  there,  standing  on  the  curb,  with 
a  tray  in  her  arms  piled  high  with  goodies, 
was  Madame  Coudert  herself.  The  green 
poster  was  already  torn  in  shreds  and  ly- 
ing in  the  gutter.  It  even  looked  as  if 
some  one  had  stamped  on  it,  and  above  her 
door  waved  the  tricolor  of  France!  "Come 
here,"  she  cried  to  Pierre  and  Pierrette, 
"Quick!  Hand  these  out  to  the  soldiers  as 
long  as  there's  one  left!  " 

Pierre  seized  a  pink  frosted  cake,  and 
ran  with  it  to  a  Captain.  Pierrette  gave 
a  sugar  roll  to  the  first  soldier  she  could 
reach;  other  hands  helped.  Mother  Meraut 
ran  into  the  shop  and  brought  out  more 
cakes.  Shop-keepers  all  along  the  way 
followed  Madame  Coudert's  example,  and 
soon  people  everywhere  were  bringing  of- 
ferings of  candy,  chocolate,  and  cigars  to 
the  soldiers,  and  the  streets  suddenly  blos- 
somed with  blue,  white,  and  red  flags. 

At  the  corner,  near  Madame  Coudert's 
59 


shop,  Pierre  had  the  joy  of  seeing  the  Ger- 
man officer  who  had  tried  to  catch  him  sur- 
render to  the  Captain  who  had  taken  the 
pink  cake.  Oh,  what  a  moment  that  was  for 
Pierre !  He  sprang  into  the  gutter  as  the 
German  passed  and  savagely  jumped  up 
and  down  upon  the  fragments  of  the  green 
poster!  It  was  a  matter  for  bitter  regret  to 
him  long  after  that  the  German  did  not  seem 
to  notice  him. 

The  whole  morning  passed  in  such  joy 
and  excitement  that  it  was  nearly  noon 
when  at  last  Mother  Meraut,  beaming  with 
happiness,  and  accompanied  by  a  radiant 
Pierre  and  Pierrette,  entered  the  Cathedral. 
They  were  astonished  to  find  it  no  longer 
the  silent  and  dim  sanctuary  to  which  they 
were  accustomed.  The  Abbe  was  there,  and 
the  Verger,  looking  quite  distracted,  was 
directing  a  group  of  men  in  moving  the 
praying-chairs  from  the  western  end  of  the 
Cathedral,  and  the  space  where  they  had 
been  was  already  covered  with  heaps  of 
straw.    Under  the  great  choir  at  the  west- 

60 


em  end  there  were  piles,  of  broken  glass. 
Part  of  the  wonderful  rose  window  had  been 
shattered  by  a  shell,  and  lay  in  a  million 
fragments  on  the  stone  floor. 

Mother  Meraut  clasped  her  hands  in  dis- 
may. "What  does  it  all  mean?"  she  de- 
manded of  the  Verger,  as  he  went  tap-tap- 
ping by  after  the  workmen.  "  What  do  you 
wish  me  to  do?" 

"Gather  up  every  fragment  of  glass,"  said 
the  Verger  briefly,  "  and  put  them  in  a  safe 
place.  The  wounded  are  on  the  way,  and 
are  to  be  housed  in  the  Cathedral.  We  must 
be  ready  for  them.  There  is  no  time  to  lose." 

As  Mother  Meraut  flew  to  carry  out  his 
directions,  the  Abbe  beckoned  to  the  chil- 
dren. "  Can  you  be  trusted  to  do  an  errand 
for  me?"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  Your  Reverence,"  answered  Pierre. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  Abbe.  "  I  want  you 
to  get  for  the  towers  two  Red  Cross  flags. 
They  must  be  the  largest  size,  and  we  must 
have  them  soon.  The  wounded  may  arrive 
at  any  moment  now,  and  the  Red  Cross  will 

61 


it  \ch& 


fern  if , 


protect  the  Cathedral  from  shell-fire,  for  not 
even  Germans  would  destroy  a  hospital." 
He  gave  them  careful  directions,  and  a  note 
for  the  shop-keeper.  "  Now  run  along,  both 
of  you,"  he  said.  "Tell  your  Mother  where 
you  are  going,  and  that  I  sent  you." 


In  two  minutes  the  Twins  were  on  their 
way,  but  it  was  more  than  an  hour  before 
they  got  back.  First,  the  shop-keeper  was 
out,  and  when  he  got  back  it  took  him  some 
time  to  find  large  enough  flags.  At  last, 
however,  they  returned,  each  carrying  one 
done  up  in  a  paper  parcel. 

"  Here  are  the  flags,"  Pierre  announced 
proudly  to  the  Verger,  who  met  them  at  the 
entrance. 

"Yes,"  said  Father  Varennes,  "here  they 
are,  and  here  you  are.  Come  in,  your  Mother 
wants  to  see  you."  The  children  followed 
him  through  the  door,  and  although  they 
had  been  told  that  the  wounded  were  to  be 
brought  to  the  Cathedral,  they  were  not 
prepared  for  the  sight  that  met  their  eyes 
as  they  entered.  On  the  heaps  of  straw  lay 
tossing  moaning  men,  in  the  gray  uniforms 
of  the  German  army. 

Pierrette  seized  Pierre's  hand.  "  Oh," 
she  shuddered,  "  I  did  n't  think  they  'd  be 
Germans!  " 

"They  aren't  —  all  of  them,"  said  the 
6Z 


Verger,  a  little  huskily.  "  Some  of  them  are 
French.  The  Church  shelters  them  all." 

Doctors  in  white  aprons  were  already  in 
attendance  upon  the  wounded,  and  nurses 
with  red  crosses  on  the  sleeves  of  their  white 
uniforms  flitted  silently  back  and  forth  on 
errands  of  mercy.  The  two  children,  cling- 
ing to  each  other  and  gazing  fearfully  about 
them,  followed  the  Verger  down  the  aisle. 
As  they  passed  a  heap  of  straw  upon  which 
a  wounded  German  lay,  something  bright 
rolled  from  it  to  them  and  dropped  at  Pier- 
rette's feet.  Pierre  sprang  to  pick  it  up.  It 
was  a  German  helmet.  Across  the  front  of 
it  were  letters.  Pierre  spelled  them  —  "  Gott 
mit  uns."  "  What  does  that  mean?"  he 
asked  the  Verger. 

"God  with  us,"  snorted  Father  Varennes. 
"I  suppose  the  poor  wretches  actually  be- 
lieve He  is." 

The  Abbe  was  waiting  for  them  in  the 
aisle,  and  he  took  from  them  the  flags  and 
the  helmet.  He  had  heard  the  Verger's  re- 
ply, and  guessed  what  the  question  must 

64 


have  been.  "  My  boy,"  he  said,  laying  his 
hand  gently  upon  Pierre's  head  for  an  in- 
stant, "  God  is  not  far  from  any  of  his  chil- 
dren. It  is  they  who,  through  sin,  separate 
themselves  from  Him !  But  never  mind 
theology  now.  Your  Mother  is  waiting  for 
you.   I  will  take  you  to  her." 

The  Twins  thought  it  strange  that  the 
Abbe  should  himself  guide  them  to  their 
Mother.  They  followed  his  broad  back  and 
swinging  black  soutane  to  the  farthest  cor- 
ner  of  the  hospital  space.  There,  beside  a 
mound  of  straw  upon  which  was  stretched  a 
wounded  soldier  in  French  uniform,  knelt 
their  Mother,  and  the  Twins,  looking  down, 
met  the  eyes  of  their  own  Father  gazing  up 
at  them. 

"Gently!  my  dears,  gently!"  cautioned 
their  Mother,  as  the  children  fell  upon  their 
knees  beside  her  in  an  agony  of  tears.  "Don't 
cry !  he  is  wounded,  to  be  sure,  but  he  will 
get  well,  though  he  can  never  again  fight  for 
France.  We  shall  see  him  every  day,  and 
by  and  by  he  will  be  at  home  again  with  us." 

65 


Too  stunned  for  speech,  the  Twins  only 
kissed  the  blood-stained  hands,  and  then 
their  Mother  led  them  away.   Under  the 


western  arches  she  kissed  them  good-by, 
"Go  now  to  Madame  Coudert,"  she  said, 
"and  tell  her  your  Father  is  here,  and  that 
I  shall  stay  in  the  Cathedral.  Ask  her  to 
take  care  of  you  for  the  night.  In  the  morn- 
ing, if  it  is  quiet,  come  again  to  me." 

Dazed,  happy,  grieved,  the  children 
obeyed.  They  found  Madame  Coudert 
beaming  above  her  empty  counter.  "  Bless 
you,"  she  cried,  when  they  gave  her  their 
Mother's  message,  "of  course  you  can  stay! 
There  are  no  pink  cakes  for  Pierre,  but  who 
cares  for  cakes  now  that  the  French  are  once 
more  in  Rheims!  And  to  think  you  have 
your  Father  back  again!  Surely  this  is  a 
happy  day  for  you,  even  though  he  came 
back  with  a  wound!  " 


AT  MADAME  COUDERT'S 


V 

AT  MADAME  COUDERT'S 

The  joy  of  the  people  of  Rheims  was  short- 
lived. The  Germans  had  been  driven  out, 
it  is  true,  but  they  had  gone  only  a  short 
distance  to  the  east,  and  there,  upon  the 
banks  of  the  Aisne,  had  securely  entrenched 
themselves,  venting  their  rage  upon  the  City 
by  daily  bombardments.  From  ten  until  two 
nearly  every  day  the  inhabitants  of  the 
stricken  City  for  the  most  part  sat  in  their 
cellars  listening  to  the  whistling  of  shells 
and  the  crash  of  falling  timbers  and  tiles. 
When  the  noise  ceased,  they  returned  to  the 
light  and  air  once  more*and  looked  about 
to  see  the  extent  of  the  damage  done.  Dur- 
ing the  rest  of  the  day  they  went  about 
their  routine  as  usual,  hoping  against  hope 
that  the  French  Armies,  which  were  now 
between   Rheims  and  the  enemy,   would 

7i 


be  able  not  only  to  defend  the  City  but  to 
drive  the  Germans  still  farther  toward  the 
Rhine. 

When  the  Twins  reached  the  Cathedral 
the  morning  after  the  return  of  the  French 
troops,  they  found  their  Father  resting  after 
an  operation  which  had  removed  from  his 
leg  a  piece  of  shell,  which  had  nearly  cost 
his  life  and  would  make  him  permanently 
lame.  Their  Mother  met  them  as  they  came 
in.  She  was  pale  but  smiling.  "What  a  joy 
to  see  you !  "  she  cried,  as  she  pressed  them 
to  her  breast.  "You  may  take  one  look  at 
your  Father  and  throw  him  a  kiss;  then  you 
must  go  back  to  Madame  Coudert." 

"  May  n't  we  stay  with  you  and  help  take 
care  of  Father?  "  begged  Pierre. 

"No,"  answered  his  Mother  firmly,  "the 
sights  here  are  not  for  young  eyes.  I  can 
wait  upon  the  nurses  and  keep  things  clean. 
My  place  is  here  for  the  present,  but  to- 
morrow, if  all  goes  well,  we  will  sleep  once 
more  in  our  own  little  home,  if  it  is  still 
standing.   In  the  mean  time,  be  good  chil- 

72 


dren,  and  mind  Madame  Coudert.  Now  run 
along  before  the  shells  begin  to  fall." 

The  Twins  obediently  trotted  away,  and 
regained  the  little  shop  just  as  the  clock 
struck  ten.  The  day  seemed  long  to  them, 
for  their  thoughts  were  with  their  parents, 
but  Madame  Coudert  was  so  cheerful  her- 
self, and  kept  them  so  busy  they  had  no 
time  to  mope.  Pierrette  helped  make  the 
little  cakes,  and  Pierre  scraped  the  remains 
of  the  icing  from  the  mixing-bowl  and  ate 
it  lest  any  be  wasted.  In  some  ways  Pierre 
was  a  very  thrifty  boy.  Then,  too,  Madame 
Coudert  allowed  them  to  stand  behind  the 
counter  and  help  wait  upon  the  customers. 
Moreover,  there  was  Fifine,  the  cat,  for 
Pierrette  to  play  with,  and  the  little  raveled- 
out  dog  lived  only  two  doors  below ;  so  they 
did  not  lack  for  entertainment. 

The  next  evening  their  Mother  called  for 
them,  as  she  had  promised  to  do,  and  they 
once  more  had  supper  and  slept  beneath 
their  own  roof.  For  three  days  they  fol- 
lowed this  routine,  going  with  their  Mother 

n 


to  Madame  Coudert's,  where  they  spent  the 
day,  returning  at  night.  On  the  fourth  day 
they  were  again  allowed  to  visit  the  Cathe- 
dral and  to  see  their  Father.  "  It  will  do  him 
good  to  be  with  his  children,"  the  doctor 
had  said,  and  so,  while  Mother  Meraut  at- 
tended to  her  duties,  Pierre  and  Pierrette 
sat  on  each  side  of  the  straw  bed  where  he 
lay,  proud  and  responsible  to  be  left  in 
charge  of  the  patient. 

Pierre  was  bursting  with  curiosity  to 
know  about  the  Battle  of  the  Marne.  Not 
another  boy  of  his  acquaintance  had  a 
wounded  father,  and  though  his  opportuni- 
ties for  seeing  his  friends  had  been  few,  he 
had  already  done  a  good  deal  of  boasting, 
and  was  pointed  out  by  other  boys  on  the 
street  as  a  person  of  special  distinction. 
"Tell  me  about  the  battle,  Father,"  he 
begged. 

His  Father  lifted  his  tired  eyes  to  a  statue 
of  Jeanne  d'Arc,  which  was  in  plain  sight 
from  where  he  lay.  "Well,  my  boy,"  he 
said  after  a  pause,  "  there  is  much  I  should 


not  wish  you  to  know,  but  this  I  will  tell 
you.  On  the  day  the  battle  turned,  the 
watchword  of  the  Army  was  Jeanne  d'Arc. 
Our  soldiers  sprang  to  the  attack  with  her 
name  upon  their  lips,  and  some  have  sworn 
to  me  that  they  saw  her  ride  before  us  into 
battle  on  her  white  charger,  carrying  in  her 
hand  the  very  banner  which  you  see  there 
upon  the  altar.  I  do  not  know  whether  or 
not  it  is  true,  but  certainly  the  victory  was 
with  us,  and  I  for  my  part  find  it  easy  to  be- 
lieve that  our  blessed  Saint  Jeanne  has  not 
forgotten  France."  He  raised  himself  a  lit- 
tle on  his  elbow  and  pointed  to  a  place  not 
far  distant  in  the  nave.  "  There,"  he  said, 
"is  the  very  spot  upon  which  she  knelt  while 
her  king  was  being  crowned  here  in  our 
Cathedral  after  she  had  driven  our  enemies 
from  French  soil  and  had  given  him  his 
throne !  The  happiest  moments  of  her  life 
were  here  !  What  place  should  be  revisited 
by  her  pure  spirit  if  not  Rheims?  My  chil- 
dren, I  wish  you  every  day  to  pray  that 
she  may  come  again  to  deliver  France  1 " 

75 


Exhausted  by  emotion  and  by  the  effort  he 
had  made,  he  sank  back  upon  the  straw  and 
closed  his  eyes. 

Pierrette  took  his  hand.  "Dear  papa," 
she  said,  "  every  day  we  will  pray  to  her  as 
you  say,  and  give  thanks  to  the  Bon  Dieu 
that  your  life  has  been  spared  to  us.  If  only 
your  poor  leg  — "  she  stopped,  overcome 
by  tears. 

Her  Father  opened  his  eyes  and  smiled. 
"Ah,  little  one,  what  is  a  leg  more  or  less, 
—  or  a  life  either  for  that  matter, — when 
our  France  is  in  danger?"  he  said.  "  Is  it 
not  so,  Pierre?" 

Pierre  gulped.  "France  can  have  all  of 
my  legs ! "  he  cried,  in  a  burst  of  patriotism. 
"And  when  I  'm  big  enough,  I  'm  going  to 
dig  a  hole  in  the  ground  and  put  in  millions 
of  tons  of  dynamite  and  blow  up  the  whole 
of  Germany !  That 's  what  I  'm  going  to 
do!" 

His  Father's  eyes  twinkled.  "  It  seems 
a  long  while  to  wait,"  he  said,  "because 
now  you  are  only  nine,  you  see." 

76 


Just  then  their  Mother  came  toward  the 
little  group.  "  Magpies!"  she  cried,  "it 
seems  that  you  are  talking  my  patient  to 
death.  Run  along  now  to  Madame  Coudert." 
At  the  Cathedral  entrance  she  kissed  them, 
and  then  stood  for  a  moment  to  watch  them 
as  they  hurried  down  the  street  out  of  sight 


VI 

THE  BURNING  OF  THE 
CATHEDRAL 


d&t^p 


VI 

THE  BURNING  OF  THE 
CATHEDRAL 

On  the  evening  of  the  18th  of  September, 
Mother  Meraut  was  late  in  leaving  the 
Cathedral,  and  it  was  nearly  dark  when  she 
reached  Madame  Coudert's  door.  Pierrette 
sat  on  the  steps  waiting  for  her,  with  Fifine, 
the  cat,  in  her  arms.  Madame  Coudert  was 
knitting,  as  usual,  and  Pierre  was  trying  to 
teach  the  little  raveled-out  dog  to  stand  on 
his  hind  legs.  As  their  Mother  appeared, 
the  children  sprang  to  meet  her. 

"How  is  Father?"  cried  Pierrette.  It  was 
always  the  first  question  when  they  saw  her. 

11  Better,"  answered  her  Mother.  "  In  an- 
other week  or  two  the  doctor  thinks  he  can 
be  moved." 

She  was  about  to  enter  the  shop  to  speak 
to  Madame  Coudert,  when  the  air  was  sud- 

81 


denly  rent  by  a  fearful  roar  of  sound.  She 
clasped  her  children  in  her  arms.  "  It 's  like 
thunder,"  she  said,  patting  them  soothingly ; 
"  if  you  hear  the  roar  you  know  at  once 
that  you  are  n't  killed.  Come,  we  must 
hurry  to  the  cellar."  But  before  she  could 
take  a  single  step  in  that  direction  there 
was  another  terrible  explosion. 

"  Look,  oh  look!"  screamed  Pierre, 
pointing  to  the  Cathedral  towers,  which 
were  visible  from  where  they  stood;  "they 
are  shelling  the  Cathedral!  " 

For  an  instant  they  stood  as  if  rooted  to 
the  spot.  Was  it  possible  the  Germans  would 
shell  the  place  where  their  own  wounded 
lay  —  a  place  protected  by  the  cross?  They 
saw  the  scaffolding  about  one  of  the  towers 
burst  suddenly  into  flames.  In  another  mo- 
ment the  fire  had  caught  and  devoured  the 
Red  Cross  flag  itself  and  then  sprang  like 
a  thing  possessed  to  the  roof.  An  instant 
more,  and  that  too  was  burning. 

"Father!"  screamed  Pierre,  and  before 
any  one  could  stop  him  or  even  say  a  word, 

82 


the  boy  was  far  up  the  street,  running  like 
a  deer  toward  the  Cathedral.  Pierrette  was 
but  a  few  steps  behind  him. 

When  she  saw  her  children  rushing  madly 
into  such  danger,  Mother  Meraut's  ex- 
hausted body  gave  way  beneath  the  de- 
mands of  her  spirit.  If  Madame  Coudert 
had  not  caught  her,  she  would  have  sunk 
down  upon  the  step.  It  was  only  for  an  in- 
stant, but  in  that  instant  the  children  had 
passed  out  of  sight.  Not  stopping  even  to 
close  her  door,  Madame  Coudert  seized 
Mother  Meraut's  hand,  and  together  the 
two  women  ran  after  them.  But  they  could 
not  hope  to  rival  the  speed  of  fleet  young 
feet,  and  when  they  reached  the  Cathedral 
square  the  flames  were  already  roaring  up- 
ward into  the  very  sky.  The  streets  were 
crowded  by  this  time,  and  their  best  speed 
brought  them  to  the  square  ten  minutes 
after  the  children  had  reached  the  burning 
Cathedral,  and,  heedless  of  danger,  had 
dashed  in  and  to  the  corner  where  their 
helpless  Father  lay. 

83 


The  place  was  swarming  with  doctors 
and  nurses  working  frantically  to  move  the 
wounded.  The  Abbe  was  there,  and  the 
Archbishop  also.  Already  the  straw  had 
caught  fire  in  several  places  from  falling 
brands.  "  Out  through  the  north  transept," 
shouted  the  Abbe. 

Pierre  and  Pierrette  knew  well  what  they 
had  come  to  do.  For  them  there  was  but 
one  person  in  the  Cathedral,  and  that  per- 
son was  their  Father.  They  had  but  one 
purpose — to  get  him  out.  Young  as  they 
were,  they  were  already  well  used  to  danger, 
and  it  scarcely  occurred  to  them  that  they 
were  risking  their  lives.  Certainly  they  were 
not  afraid.  When  they  reached  their  Father's 
side,  they  found  him  vainly  struggling  to  rise. 

"  Here  we  are,  Father,"  shouted  Pierre. 
"  Lean  on  us !  "  He  flew  to  one  side;  Pier- 
rette was  already  struggling  to  lift  him  on 
the  other.  As  his  bed  was  the  one  farthest 
from  the  spot  where  the  fire  first  appeared, 
the  doctors  and  nurses  had  sought  to  rescue 
those  in  greatest  danger,  and  so  the  children 

84 


for  the  time  being  were  alone  in  their  effort 
to  save  him. 

The  flames  were  now  leaping  through 
the  Cathedral  aisles,  devouring  the  straw 
beds  as  if  they  were  tinder.  In  vain  Father 
Meraut  ordered  them  to  leave  him.  For 
once  his  children  refused  to  obey.  Some- 
how they  got  him  to  his  feet,  and  he,  for  their 
sakes  making  a  superhuman  effort,  suc- 
ceeded in  staggering  between  them,  using 
their  lithe  young  bodies  as  crutches.  How 
they  reached  the  door  of  the  north  transept 
they  never  knew,  but  reach  it  they  did,  be- 
fore the  burning  flames.  And  there  a  new 
terror  appeared. 

The  people  of  Rheims,  infuriated  by  the 
long  abuse  which  they  had  suffered,  stood 
with  guns  pointed  at  the  wounded  and  help- 
less Germans  whom  the  doctors  and  nurses 
had  succeeded  in  getting  so  far  on  the  way 
to  safety.  Above  the  roar  of  flames  rose  the 
roar  of  angry  voices.  "  It  is  the  Germans  who 
burn  our  Cathedral.  Let  them  die  with  it," 
shouted  one. 

85 


Between  the  helpless  Germans  and  the 
angry  mob,  facing  their  guns,  towered  the  fig- 
ures of  the  Abbe  and  the  Archbishop !  "If  you 
kill  them,  you  must  first  kill  us,"  cried  the 

86 


Archbishop.  Kill  the  Archbishop  and  the 
Abbe!  Unthinkable!  The  guns  were  imme- 
diately lowered,  and  the  work  of  rescue  went 
on. 

Out  of  the  north  door  crept  Father  Me- 
raut,  supported  by  hisbravechildren.  "Bravo  I 
Bravo !  "  shouted  the  crowd,  and  then  hands 
that  would  have  killed  Germans  willingly, 
were  stretched  in  instant  sympathy  and  help- 
fulness to  the  wounded  French  soldier  and 
his  brave  children.  Two  men  made  a  chair 
of  their  arms,  and  Father  Meraut  was  car- 
ried in  safety  to  the  square  before  the  Ca- 
thedral, Pierre  and  Pierrette  following  close 
behind.  At  the  foot  of  the  statue  of  Jeanne 
d' Arc  they  stopped  to  rest  and  change  hands, 
and  there,  frantic  with  joy,  Mother  Meraut 
found  them. 

"A  soldier  of  France — wounded  at  the 
Marne!"  shouted  the  crowd,  and  if  he  had 
been  able  to  endure  it,  they  would  have 
borne  him  upon  their  grateful  shoulders.  As 
it  was,  he  was  carried  in  no  less  grateful  arms 
clear  to  Madame  Coudert's  door,  and  there, 

8? 


lying  upon  an  improvised  stretcher,  and  at- 
tended by  his  wife  and  children,  he  rested 
from  his  journey,  while  Madame  Coudert 
ran  to  prepare  a  cup  of  coffee  for  a  stimu- 
lant. From  Madame  Coudert's  door  they 
watched  the  further  destruction  of  the  beau- 
tiful Cathedral  which  Mother  Meraut  had 
so  often  called  the  "safest  place  in  Rheims." 
As  it  burned,  a  wonderful  thing  happened. 
High  above  the  glowing  roof  there  suddenly 
flamed  the  blue  fleur-de-lis  of  France  ! 

"See!  See!"  cried  Mother  Meraut.  "A 
Miracle!  The  Lily  of  France!  Oh,  surely  it 
is  a  sign  sent  by  the  Bon  Dieu  to  keep  us 
from  despair  1 " 

"It  is  only  the  gas  from  an  exploding 
shell,  bursting  in  blue  flame,"  said  her  hus- 
band. "Yet  —  who  knows?  —  it  may  also 
be  a  true  promise  that  France  shall  rise  in 
beauty  from  its  ruins." 


VII 
HOME  AGAIN 


VII 

HOME  AGAIN 

The  next  day,  they  were  able  to  move 
Father  Meraut  to  his  own  home.  In  spite 
of  the  excitement  and  strain,  he  seemed  but 
little  the  worse  for  his  experience,  and  the 
happiness  of  being  again  with  his  family 
quite  offset  the  effect  of  his  dangerous  jour- 
ney. Mother  Meraut  was  a  famous  nurse, 
and  when  he  was  safely  installed  in  a  bed 
in  a  corner  of  the  room  which  was  their 
living-room  and  kitchen  in  one,  she  was 
able  to  give  him  her  best  care.  There  he  lay, 
following  her  with  his  eyes  as  she  made 
good  things  for  him  to  eat  or  carried  on  the 
regular  activities  of  her  home.  Pierre  and 
Pierrette  sat  beside  his  bed  and  talked  to 
him,  or,  better  still,  got  him  to  tell  them 
stories  of  the  things  that  had  happened 
during  his  brief  stay  in  the  Army    Pierre 

91 


brought  the  little  raveled-out  dog,  with  which 
he  was  now  on  the  friendliest  terms,  to  see 
him,  and  Madame  Coudert  also  came  to  call 
now  and  then,  bringing  a  cake  or  some  other 
dainty  to  the  invalid. 

If  only  the  Germans  had  gone  from  their 
trenches  on  the  Aisne,  they  and  every  one 
else  in  Rheims  would  have  been  quite  com- 
fortable, but  alas !  this  was  not  to  be.  The 
Germans  stayed  where  they  were,  and  each 
day  sent  a  new  rain  of  shells  upon  the  un- 
fortunate City.  The  inhabitants  grew  accus- 
tomed to  it,  as  one  grows  used  to  thunder- 
showers  in  April.  "Hello!  it's  beginning 
to  sprinkle,"  they  would  say  when  a  shell 
burst,  spattering  mud  and  dirt  upon  the 
passers-by.  Signs  appeared  upon  the  street, 
"Safe  Cellars  Here,"  and  when  the  bom- 
bardment began,  people  would  dash  for  the 
nearest  shelter  and  wait  until  the  storm  was 
over. 

Pierre  and  Pierrette  played  out  of  doors 
every  day,  though  they  did  not  go  far  from 
their  home,  and  had  no  one  but  each  other 

92 


to  play  with.  Pierrette  made  a  play-house 
in  one  corner  of  the  court.  Here  in  a  little 
box  she  kept  a  store  of  broken  dishes,  and 
here  she  sat  long  hours  with  her  doll 
Jacqueline.  Sometimes  Pierre,  having  no 
better  occupation,  played  with  her.  He 
even  took  a  gingerly  interest  in  Jacque- 
line, although  he  would  not  for  the  world 

93 


have  let  any  of  the  boys  know  of  such  a 
weakness. 

When  the  shells  began  to  fall,  they  would 
leave  their  corner  and  run  quickly  to  the 
cellar.  As  Father  Meraut  could  not  go  up 
or  down,  his  wife  stayed  in  the  kitchen  be- 
side him.  In  this  way  several  weary  weeks 
went  by.  Mother  Meraut  went  no  more  to 
the  Cathedral.  There  was  nothing  there  that 
she  could  do.  The  great,  beautiful  church 
which  had  been  the  very  soul  of  Rheims 
and  the  pride  of  France  was  now  nothing 
but  a  ruined  shell,  its  wonderful  windows 
broken,  its  roof  gone,  its  very  walls  of 
stone  so  burned  that  they  crumbled  to 
pieces  at  a  touch.  Even  the  great  bronze 
bells  had  been  melted  in  the  flames  and 
had  fallen  in  molten  drops,  like  tears  of 
grief,  into  the  wreckage  below.  All  the 
beautiful  treasures — the  tapestries,  wrought 
by  the  hands  of  queens,  and  even  the  sa- 
cred banner  of  Jeanne  d'Arc  itself — had 
been  destroyed. 

Mother  Meraut  knew,  but  she  did  not 
94 


tell  her  children,  that  precious  lives  had  also 
been  lost,  and  that  buried  somewhere  in  the 
ruins  were  the  bodies  of  doctors  and  nurses 
who  had  given  their  own  in  trying  to  save 
the  lives  of  others,  and  of  brave  citizens  of 
Rheims  who  had  fallen  in  an  attempt  to 
save  the  precious  relics  carefully  treasured 
there.  Neither  did  she  tell  them  that  little 
Jean,  the  Verger's  son,  was  one  of  that  he- 
roic band.  These  sorrows  she  bore  in  her 
own  breast,  but  she  never  passed  near  the 
Cathedral  after  that  terrible  night.  Some- 
times, when  a  necessary  errand  took  her.  to 
that  part  of  the  City,  she  would  pause  at  a 
distance  to  look  long  at  the  statue  of  Jeanne 
d'Arc,  standing  unharmed  in  the  midst  of 
the  destruction  about  her  still  lifting  her 
sword  to  the  sky.  In  all  the  rain  of  shells 
which  had  fallen  upon  the  City  not  one  had 
yet  touched  the  statue.  Only  the  tip  of  the 
sword  had  been  broken  off.  It  comforted 
Mother  Meraut  to  see  it  standing  so 
strangely  safe  in  the  midst  of  such  desola- 
tion.   "It  stands,"  she  thought,  "even  as 

95 


her  pure  spirit  stood  safe  amidst  the  flames 
of  her  martyrdom.  But  I  cannot,  like  her, 
pray  for  my  enemies  while  I  burn  in  the 
fires  they  have  kindled." 

There  was  yet  another  burden  which  she 
carried  safely  hidden  in  her  heart.  She  had 
not  heard  from  her  father  and  mother  since 
the  Battle  of  the  Marne.  That  the  Germans 
had  passed  through  the  village  where  they 
lived  she  knew,  but  what  destruction  they 
had  wrought  she  could  only  guess.  It  was 
impossible  for  her  at  that  time  to  go  to 
them ;  so  she  waited  in  silence,  hoping  that 
some  time  good  news  might  come.  The 
slow  weeks  lengthened  into  months,  and 
at  last  Father  Meraut  was  strong  enough 
to  get  about  on  a  crutch  like  Father  Va- 
rennes.  It  was  a  great  day  when  first  he 
was  able  to  hobble  down  the  steps  and  out 
upon  the  street,  leaning  on  Mother  Meraut's 
arm  on  one  side,  and  his  crutch  upon  the 
other,  with  Pierre  and  Pierrette  marching 
before  him  like  a  guard  of  honor. 

It  was  now  cold  weather;  winter  had  set 
96 


in,  and  life  became  more  difficult  as  food 
grew  scarce  and  there  was  not  enough  fuel 
to  heat  the  houses.  School  should  have 
begun  in  October,  but  school-buildings  had 
not  been  spared  in  the  bombardment,  and 
it  was  dangerous  to  permit  children  to  stay- 
in  them.  At  last,  however,  a  new  way- 
was  found  to  cheat  the  enemy  of  its  prey. 
Schools  were  opened  in  the  great  cham- 
pagne cellars  of  Rheims,  and  Pierre  and 
Pierrette  were  among  the  first  scholars  en- 
rolled. Every  day  after  that  they  hastened 
through  the  streets  before  the  usual  hour 
of  the  bombardment,  went  down  into  one 
of  the  great  tunnels  cut  in  chalk,  and  there, 
in  rooms  deep  underground,  carried  on  their 
studies.  It  was  a  strange  school,  but  it  was 
safer  than  their  home,  even  though  there 
was  danger  in  going  back  and  forth  in  the 
streets.  By  spring  the  children  of  Rheims 
had  lived  so  much  in  cellars  that  they  were 
as  pale  as  potato-sprouts. 

Mother  Meraut  watched  her  two  with 
deepening  anxiety.   Then,  one  day  in  the 

97 


spring,  a  corner  of  their  own  roof  was  blown 
off  by  a  shell.  No  one  was  hurt,  but  when 
a  few  moments  later  a  second  explosion 
blew  a  cat  through  the  hole  and  dropped  it 
into  the  soup,  Mother  Meraut's  endurance 
gave  way. 

It  was  the  last  straw !  She  put  the  cat  out, 
yowling  but  unharmed,  and  silently  cleared 
away  the  debris.  Then,  when  the  bombard- 
ment was  over,  she  put  on  her  bonnet  and 
went  out.  She  came  back  an  hour  later,  to 
find  the  Twins  sitting,  one  on  each  side  of 
their  Father,  holding  his  hands,  and  all  three 
the  picture  of  despair.  Mother  Meraut  stood 
before  them,  her  eyes  flashing,  her  cheeks 
burning  a  deep  red,  and  this  is  what  she 
said :  "I  will  not  live  like  this  another  day. 
Life  in  Rheims  is  no  longer  possible.  I  will 
not  stay  here  to  be  killed  by  inches.  I  have 
made  arrangements  to  get  a  little  row- 
boat,  and  to-morrow  morning  we  will  take 
such  things  as  we  can  carry  and  leave  this 
place.  Whatever  may  happen  to  us  else- 
where,  it   cannot  be  worse  than  what  is 

98 


happening  here,  and  it  may  possibly  be 
better." 

Her  husband  and  children  looked  at  her 
in  amazement.  She  did  not  ask  their  opin- 
ion about  the  matter,  but  promptly  began 
the  necessary  preparations  and  told  them 
what  to  do.  Clothing  was  brought  to  Father 
Meraut  to  be  packed  in  compact  bundles 
and  tied  up  with  string.  Then  blankets  were 
made  into  another  bundle ;  a  third  held  a 
frying-pan,  a  coffee-pot,  and  a  kettle,  with  a 
few  knives,  forks,  and  spoons,  while  a  fourth 
contained  food.  The  Twins  were  sent  to 
say  good-by  to  Madame  Coudert,  and  to 
give  her  a  key  to  the  door,  and  then  all  the 
rest  of  their  household  goods  were  packed 
away  as  carefully  as  time  permitted,  in  the 
cellar. 

Mother  Meraut  put  the  Twins  to  bed 
early,  but  she  herself  remained  at  work  most 
of  the  night;  yet  when  morning  came  and 
the  children  woke,  she  was  up  and  neatly 
dressed,  and  had  their  breakfast  ready.  She 
did  not  linger  over  their  sad  departure,  nor 

99 


did  she  shed  a  tear  as  they  left  the  little 
house  which  had  been  their  happy  home. 
Instead,  she  locked  the  door  after  them  with 
a  snap,  put  the  key  in  her  pocket,  and  walked 
down  the  steps  with  the  grim  determination 
of  a  soldier  going  into  battle,  carrying  a  big 
bundle  under  each  arm. 


VIII 
REFUGEES 


VIII 

REFUGEES 

The  Twins  and  their  Father  followed  the 
resolute  figure  of  Mother  Meraut  down  the 
street,  not  knowing  at  all  where  she  was 
leading  them,  but  with  implicit  confidence 
that  she  knew  what  she  was  about.  She 
was  carrying  the  heaviest  bundles,  and  the 
Twins  carried  the  rest  between  them,  packed 
in  a  clothes-basket.  On  her  other  arm 
Pierrette  bore  her  dearly  loved  Jacqueline. 
Father  Meraut  could  carry  nothing  but  such 
small  articles  as  could  be  put  in  his  pockets, 
but  it  was  joy  enough  that  he  could  carry 
himself,  and  it  was  quite  wonderful  to  see 
how  speedily  he  got  over  the  ground  with 
his  crutch. 

Not  far  from   their   house  in   the   Rue 
Charly  ran  the  River  Vesle,  which  flows 

103 


through  Rheims,  and  as  the  Merauts  knew 
well  a  man  whose  business  it  was  to  let 
boats  to  pleasure  parties  in  summer,  the 
children  were  not  surprised  to  see  their 
Mother  walk  down  the  street  toward  the 
little  wharf  where  his  boats  were  kept. 
He  was  waiting  to  receive  them,  and,  drawn 
up  to  the  water's  edge  was  a  red  and  white 
row-boat,  with  the  name  "  The  Ark  "  painted 
upon  her  prow.  Mother  Meraut  smiled  when 
she  saw  the  name.  "  If  we  only  had  the  ani- 
mals to  go  in  two  by  two,  we  should  be  just 
like  Noah  and  his  family,  shouldn't  we?" 
she  said,  as  she  put  the  bundles  in  the 
stern. 

In  a  few  moments  they  were  all  seated 
in  the  boat,  with  their  few  belongings  care- 
fully balanced,  and  Jacqueline  safely  repos- 
ing in  Pierrette's  lap.  The  boatman  pushed 
them  away  from  the  pier.  "Au  revoir," 
called  Mother  Meraut  as  the  boat  slid  into 
the  stream.  "We  will  come  back  again 
when  the  Germans  are  gone,  and  in  some 
way  I  shall  have  a  chance  to  send  your  boat 

104 


to  you,  I  know.  Meanwhile  we  will  take 
good  care  of  it." 

"There  will  be  few  pleasure-seekers  on 
the  Vesle  this  summer,"  answered  the  boat- 
man, "and  the  Ark  will  be  safer  with  you 
than  rotting  at  the  pier,  let  alone  the  chance 
of  its  being  blown  up  by  a  shell.  I  'm  glad 
you  Ve  got  her,  and  glad  you  are  going 
away  from  Rheims.  It  will  be  easy  pulling, 
for  you  're  going  down-stream,  and  about 
all  you  '11  have  to  do  is  to  keep  her  headed 
right.  Au  revoir,  and  good  luck."  He  stood 
on  the  pier  looking  after  them  and  waving 
his  hat  until  they  were  well  out  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  stream. 

Father  Meraut  had  the  oars,  and,  as  his 
arms  had  not  been  injured,  he  was  able  to 
guide  the  boat  without  fatigue,  and  soon  the 
current  had  carried  them  through  the  City 
and  out  into  the  open  country  which  lay 
beyond.  Mother  Meraut  sat  in  the  prow, 
looking  back  toward  the  Cathedral  she  had 
so  loved,  until  the  blackened  towers  were 
hidden  from  view  by  trees  along  the  river- 

i°5 


bank.  They  had  started  early  in  order  to  be 
well  out  of  Rheims  before  the  daily  bom- 
bardment should  begin. 

Spring  was  already  in  the  air,  and  as  they 
drifted  along  they  heard  the  skylarks  sing- 
ing in  the  fields.  The  trees  were  turning 
green,  and  there  were  blossoms  on  the  apple 
trees.  The  wild  flowers  along  the  river- 
bank  were  already  humming  with  bees,  and 
the  whole  scene  seemed  so  peaceful  and 
quiet  after  all  they  had  endured  in  Rheims, 
that  even  the  shell-holes  left  in  the  fields 
which  had  been  fought  over  in  the  autumn 
and  the  crosses  marking  the  graves  of  fallen 
soldiers  did  not  sadden  them. 

Mother  Meraut  sat  for  a  long  time  silent, 
then  heaved  a  deep  sigh  of  relief.  "  I  feel 
like  Lot's  wife  looking  back  upon  Sodom 
and  Gomorrah,"  she  said.  Suddenly  her 
eyes  filled  with  tears  and  she  kissed  her 
finger-tips  and  blew  the  kiss  toward  Rheims. 
"  Farewell,  my  beautiful  City  !  "  she  cried. 
"  It  is  not  for  your  sins  we  must  leave  you ! 
And    some   happy  day  we   shall  return." 

1 06 


There  was  a  report,  and  a  puff  of  smoke 
far  away  over  the  City,  then  the  sound  of  a 
distant  explosion.  The  daily  bombardment 
had  begun  I 

1 '  Your  friends  are  firing  a  farewell  salute,  '* 
said  Father  Meraut. 

All  the  morning  they  slipped  quietly 
along  between  greening  banks,  carried  by 
the  current  farther  and  farther  down-stream. 
At  noon  they  drew  the  boat  ashore  beneath 
some  willow  trees,  where  they  ate  their 
lunch,  and  then  spent  an  hour  in  such  rest 
as  they  had  not  had  for  many  weary  months. 

It  was  then,  and  not  until  then,  that  Father 
Meraut  ventured  to  ask  his  wife  her  plans. 
"My  dear,"  he  said,  as  he  stretched  him- 
self out  in  a  sunny  spot  and  put  his  head  in 
Pierrette's  lap,  "  I  have  great  confidence  in 
you,  and  will  follow  you  willingly  anywhere, 
but  I  should  really  like  to  know  where  we 
are  going." 

Mother  Meraut  looked  at  him  in  sur- 
prise. "  Why,  have  n't  I  told  you?"  she  said 
11  My  mind  has  been  so  full  of  it  I  can't  be- 

107 


lieve  you  did  n't  know  that  we  are  going  to 
my  father's,  if  we  can  get  there !  You  know 
their  village  is  on  a  little  stream  which 
flows  into  the  Aisne  some  distance  beyond 
its  junction  with  the  Vesle.  We  could  drift 
down  to  the  place  where  the  two  rivers  join, 
and  go  on  from  there  to  the  little  stream 
which  flows  past  Fontanelle.  Then  we 
could  row  up-stream  to  the  village." 

"  It's  as  plain  as  day,  now  you  tell  it," 
answered  her  husband,  "and  a  very  good 
plan,  too." 

"You  see,"  said  Mother  Meraut,  as  she 
packed  away  the  remains  of  the  lunch,  "  I 
have  n't  heard  a  word  from  them  all  winter. 
I  don't  know  whether  they  are  dead  or 
alive.  I  have  n't  said  anything  about  it,  be- 
cause you  were  so  ill  and  there  were  so 
many  other  worries,  but  this  plan  has  been 
in  my  mind  all  the  time.  What  we  shall  do 
when  we  get  to  Fontanelle  I  do  not  know, 
but  we  shall  be  no  worse  off  than  other 
refugees,  and  at  any  rate  we  shall  not  be 
under  shell-fire  every  day." 

108 


"  If  we  can't  find  any  place  to  stay  there, 
why  can't  we  go  on  and  on  down  the  river, 
until  we  get  clear  to  the  sea,"  said  Pierre 
with  enthusiasm. 

"It's  just  like  being  gypsies,  isn't  it?" 
added  Pierrette. 

11  So  far  as  I  can  see,"  said  Mother  Me- 
raut,  "we've  got  to  go  on  and  on!  Cer- 
tainly we  can't  go  back." 

11  No,  we  can't  go  back,"  echoed  her  hus- 
band, with  a  sigh. 

All  the  pleasant  afternoon  they  drifted 
peacefully  along,  and  nightfall  found  them 
in  open  country.  It  began  to  grow  colder 
as  darkness  came  on.  "We  shall  need  all 
our  blankets  if  we  are  to  sleep  in  the  fields," 
said  Mother  Meraut  at  last.  "It's  time 
for  supper  and  bed,  anyway.  Let 's  go 
ashore." 

"We'll  build  a  fire  on  the  bank  and 
cook  our  supper  there,"  said  her  husband. 
"What  is  there,  Mother,  that  we  can 
cook?" 

"  There  are  eggs  to  fry,  and  potatoes  to 
109 


roast  in   the  ashes,"  she  answered,   "and 
coffee  besides." 

"  I  am  as  hungry  as  a  wolf,"  said  Pier- 
rette. 

no 


"I'm  as  hungry  as  two  wolves,"  said 
Pierre. 

They  found  a  landing-place,  and  the  Ark 
was  drawn  ashore.  Pierre  and  Pierrette 
ran  at  once  to  gather  sticks  and  leaves. 
These  they  brought  to  their  Father,  and 
soon  a  cheerful  fire  flamed  red  against  the 
shadows.  Then  the  smell  of  coffee  floated 
out  upon  the  evening  air,  and  the  sputter 
of  frying  eggs  gave  further  promise  to  their 
hungry  stomachs. 

Before  they  had  finished  their  supper 
the  stars  were  winking  down  at  them,  and 
over  the  brow  of  a  distant  hill  rose  a 
slender  crescent  moon.  Pierrette  saw  it 
first  "Oh,"  she  cried,  "  the  new  moon! 
And  I  saw  it  over  my  right  shoulder,  too  ! 
We  are  sure  to  have  wonderful  luck  this 
month." 

Pierre  shut  his  eyes.  "  Which  way  is 
it?"  he  cried.  Pierrette  turned  him  care- 
fully about  so  that  he  too  might  see  it  over 
his  right  shoulder,  and  then,  this  ceremony 
completed,    they   washed    the  dishes    and 

in 


helped  pack  the  things  carefully  away  in 
the  clothes-basket  once  more. 

They  slept  that  night  under  the  edge  of 
a  straw-stack  in  the  meadow  near  the  river, 
and  though  they  were  homeless  wanderers 
without  a  roof  to  cover  them,  they  slept 
well,  and  awakened  next  morning  to  the 
music  of  bird-songs  instead  of  to  the  sound 
of  guns  and  the  whistling  of  shells. 


IX 
THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 


IX 
THE  FOREIGN  LEGION 

Fortunately  for  our  pilgrims  the  weather 
remained  clear  and  unusually  warm  for  the 
season  of  year,  and  they  were  able  to  con- 
tinue their  journey  the  following  day  in 
comfort.  That  night  they  slept  in  a  cow- 
shed, where  no  cows  had  been  since  the 
Germans  passed  through  so  many  months 
before,  and  on  the  morning  of  the  third  day 
they  reached  the  large  market  town  which 
marked  the  junction  of  the  little  river  upon 
which  the  village  of  Fontanelle  was  situ- 
ated with  the  Aisne. 

Mother  Meraut  was  now  upon  familiar 
territory,  among  the  scenes  of  her  child- 
hood. She  had  often  come  here  with  her 
father  when  he  had  brought  a  load  of  prod- 
uce to  sell  in  the  town  market.  Here  they 
disembarked,  bought  a  load  of  provisions, 

115 


and  once  more  resumed  their  journey.  Prog- 
ress from  this  point  on  was  slower  than  that 
of  previous  days,  for  now  the  current  was 
against  them.  Father  and  Mother  Meraut 
took  turns  at  the  oars,  and  they  had  gone 
some  four  or  five  miles  up  the  stream  when 
they  came  in  sight  of  something  quite 
unfamiliar  to  Mother  Meraut.  Stretching 
across  the  level  meadows  beside  the  river, 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  were  rows  and 
rows  of  tents.  Companies  of  soldiers  in 
French  uniforms  were  drilling  in  an  open 
field.  Groups  of  cavalry  horses  were  herded 
in  an  enclosure,  and  everywhere  there  were 
the  activities  of  a  great  military  encamp- 
ment. 

"  It 's  a  French  training-camp,"  cried 
Father  Meraut,  and  he  waved  his  cap  on 
the  end  of  an  oar  and  shouted  "  Vive  la 
France "  at  the  top  of  his  lungs.  Pierre 
and  Pierrette  waved  and  shouted  too,  and 
Mother  Meraut,  caught  by  the  general  ex- 
citement, snatched  up  Jacqueline,  who  had 
been  reposing  in  the  basket,  and  frantically 

116 


waved  her.  Some  soldiers  answered  their 
signal,  and  shouted  to  them. 

Father  Meraut  looked  puzzled.  "That 's 
not  French,"  he  said;  "I  can't  understand 
what  they  say.  But  they  have  on  French 
uniforms !  I  wonder  what  regiment  it  can 
be.  I  'm  going  to  find  out." 

"We're  not  far  from  Fontanelle  now," 
said  Mother  Meraut;  "don't  you  think  we'd 
better  go  on?" 

"We  can't  get  there  without  stopping 
somewhere  to  eat,  anyway,"  said  Father 
Meraut.  "It's  already  eleven  o'clock,  and 
I  'd  rather  find  out  about  the  soldiers  than 
eat."  So  they  tied  the  Ark  to  a  willow  tree 
and  went  ashore. 

In  a  moment  more  they  were  in  a  city 
of  soldiers,  and  Father  Meraut  was  making 
friends  with  some  of  the  men  who  were 
lounging  near  the  cook-house,  sniffing  the 
savory  smell  of  soup  which  issued  from  it 
in  appetizing  gusts.  Pierre  and  Pierrette 
sniffed  too,  and  even  Mother  Meraut  could 
not  help  saying  appreciatively,  "  That  cook 

"7 


knows  how  to  make  soup."   Pierre  laid  his 
hand  upon  his  stomach  and  smacked  his  lips. 

"  Pierre,"  said  his  mother,  reprovingly, 
"where  are  your  manners,  child?" 

At  that  moment  two  soldiers  were  pass- 
ing—  one  a  tall,  thin  man,  and  one  much 
smaller.  They  paused  and  laughed,  and  the 
tall  man  laid  his  hand  on  his  stomach,  too, 
and  smacked  his  lips. 

"Are  you  hungry,  kid?"  he  said  genially 
to  Pierre.  Pierre  looked  blank. 

The  short  man  punched  the  tall  man  in 
the  ribs.  "Don't  you  see  he's  French,"  he 
said  derisively.  "Did  you  think  you  were 
back  home  in  Illinois  ?  Why  don't  you  try 
some  of  your  parley-voo  on  him  ?  You  're 
not  getting  on  with  the  language;]  here  's 
your  chance  for  a  real  Parisian  accent." 

"Oh,  g'wan,"  answered  the  tall  man. 
"Try  your  own  French  on  him  !  I  guess  it 
won't  kill  him ;  he  looks  strong." 

The  short  man  came  nearer  to  Pierre  and 
shouted  at  him  as  if  he  were  deaf.  "  Avvy- 
voo-doo  faim  ?" 

118 


Pierre  withdrew  a  step  nearer  his  mother 
and  Pierrette.  "Je  ne  comprends  pas!"  he 
said  politely.   "Pardon." 

The  tall  man  took  off  his  cap  and  rum- 
pled his  hair.  "  Try  it  again,  Jim,"  he  said, 
"  even  if  he  is  scared.  They  look  to  me  like 
refugees,  and  as  if  a  good  bowl  of  soup 
would  n't  strike  their  insides  amiss,  but  your 
French  would  stampede  a  herd  of  buffaloes ! " 

"Try  it  yourself,  then,"  said  the  short 
man,  grinning. 

The  tall  man  sat  down  on  a  box  at  the 
door  of  the  tent  and  beckoned  to  Pierre. 
"I  say,  kid,"  he  began,  "  avvy-voo-doo- 
fam — fam?"  He  rubbed  his  stomach  in 
expressive  pantomime. 

"  Mamma,"  cried  poor  puzzled  Pierre, 
"he  asks  me  if  I  have  a  wife,  and  rubs  his 
stomach  as  if  he  had  a  stomach-ache.  What 
does  he  mean?" 

Mother  Meraut  came  forward,  trying  hard 
not  to  laugh.  "Quevoulez-vous,  Messieurs?" 
she  said  politely. 

The  tall  man  was  on  his  feet  instantly 
119 


with  his  cap  in  his  hand.  "  You  see,  ma'am," 
he  began,  ''we're  from  the  States  —  des 
Etats-Unis!  We've  come  here  to  fight 
le  Boche  —  savez-vous?  —  combattre  le 
Boche !  "  He  waved  his  arms  frantically  and 
made  a  motion  as  if  shooting  with  a  gun. 

A  smile  broke  over  Mother  Meraut's  face, 
and  she  held  out  both  hands.  "  Les  Ame- 
ricains ! "  she  cried  joyfully, "  des  Etats-Unis, 
dans  l'uniforme  de  la  France  !  Mais  mainte- 
nant  nous  exterminons  le  Boche!"  She 
called  Pierrette  and  Pierre  to  her  side. '  'These 
are  Americans,"  she  explained  in  French, 
"come  from  the  United  States  of  America 
to  fight  with  us.   Shake  hands  with  them." 

The  Twins  obeyed  shyly,  and  when  their 
Father  rejoined  the  family  a  few  moments 
later,  their  friendship  had  progressed  to  such 
an  extent  that  Pierre  was  seated  on  one  side 
of  the  tall  man  and  Pierrette  on  the  other,  and 
they  were  all  three  studyinga  French  phrase- 
book.  The  short  man,  called  Jim,  was  ges- 
ticulating wildly,  and  talking  to  Mother 
Meraut,  and  she,  good  soul,  looked  so  wise, 

1 20 


and  said  "  Oui "  and  "  Non,"  and  nodded 
her  head  so  intelligently  to  encourage  him, 
that  he  never  suspected  that  she  did  not 
understand  one  word  in  ten,  and  cast  tri- 
umphant glances  at  the  tall  man  to  see  if 
he  was  observing  his  success. 

At  this  moment  a  French  Captain  came 
by.  The  men  sprang  to  their  feet,  clicked 
their  heels  together,  and  saluted.  Father 
Meraut  stiffened  into  military  position  and 
saluted  also.  The  officer  returned  the  sa- 
lute, then  stopped  and  spoke  to  him.  "You 
are  a  soldier  of  France,  I  see,"  he  said. 
"Where  did  you  get  your  wound?" 

"With  Joffre,  at  the  Marne,  mon  Capi- 
taine,"  answered  Father  Meraut,  proudly. 
And  then  he  told  the  Captain  of  his  be- 
ing brought  wounded  to  the  Cathedral  in 
Rheims,  of  its  bombardment  and  burning, 
and  of  his  rescue  by  Pierre  and  Pierrette. 

The  Captain  turned  to  the  Americans  and 
said  to  them  in  English:  "We  have  here 
three  heroes  of  France  instead  of  one  I  These 
children  have  lived  under  constant  fire  since 

121 


last  September,  and  they  rescued  their 
wounded  father  from  the  burning  Cathedral 
of  Rheims  at  the  risk  of  their  own  lives.' 
The  Americans  saluted  Father  Meraut,  then 
they  saluted  Pierre  and  Pierrette,  while 
Mother  Meraut  stood  by,  beaming  with 
pride. 

"We  will  ask  them  to  dine  with  us  as  our 
guests,"  said  the  Captain,  and,  turning  to 
Father  Meraut,  he  spoke  again  in  French. 
"This  is  the  Foreign  Legion,"  he  said.  "  It 
is  made  up  of  friends  of  France,  brave  men 
of  different  countries  who  came  voluntarily 
to  fight  with  us  against  the  Boche.  Here 
they  receive  special  training  under  French 
officers  before  going  to  the  front.  These 
Americans  have  only  just  come.  They  do 
not  know  much  French,  but  they  wish  you 
to  dine  with  them." 

Ah,  what  a  day  that  was  for  Pierre  and 
Pierrette!  Their  story  was  passed  about 
from  one  to  another,  and,  instead  of  being 
homeless,  wandering  refugees,  they  found 
themselves     suddenly    treated    as   distin- 

122 


guished  guests,  by  real  soldiers.  Pierre 
swelled  with  pride,  and  if  he  had  only  been 
able  to  speak  their  language,  how  glad  he 
would  have  been  to  tell  the  Americans 
about  the  return  of  the  French  to  Rheims, 
the  green  poster,  Madame  Coudert,  and 
many  other  things !  Alas,  he  could  only  eat 

123 


his  soup  and  gaze  about  him  at  all  the  ac- 
tivities that  were  going  on  in  camp.  When  at 
last  it  was  time  for  them  to  go,  it  was  with 
the  greatest  difficulty  that  Pierre  could  be 
torn  away  from  his  new-found  friends. 

"  Come  again,  old  pal,"  said  the  tall  man, 
slapping  Pierre  cordially  on  the  back  as  he 
said  good-by.  "Come  again  and  see  your 
Uncle  Sam !  Come  and  bring  your  family ! " 

Pierre  grinned,  although  he  did  not  un- 
derstand a  word,  shook  hands,  and  ran  down 
the  river-bank  to  join  his  parents  and  Pier- 
rette, who  were  already  climbing  into  the 
boat. 

"Jim"  and  "Uncle  Sam"  looked  after 
them  as  the  Ark  swung  out  into  the  stream. 
"Au  revoir,"  shouted  Pierre,  waving  his 
hand.  "Vive  la  France!"  And  back  came 
the  reply  like  an  echo,  "You  bet  your  life, 
vive  la  France  I " 


X 

FONTANELLE 


X 

FONTANELLE 

The  shadows  were  beginning  to  lengthen 
across  the  valley  as  the  Ark  rounded  a 
bend  in  the  stream  and  the  little  church 
spire  of  Fontanelle  came  into  view.  "  There 
it  is  —  at  last!"  cried  Mother  Meraut. 
"Thank  God,  something  of  the  village  still 
stands!  "  She  gazed  eagerly  into  the  dis- 
tance. "And  there  is  the  Chateau,"  she 
added  joyfully,  pointing  to  a  large  gray 
stone  building  half  hidden  by  a  fringe  of 
trees.  "Oh,  surely  things  are  not  going  to 
be  so  bad  as  I  had  feared.  Hurry!  hurry! 
It  seems  as  though  my  heart  must  take 
wings  and  fly  before  my  body,  now  that 
we  are  so  near!  " 

Father  Meraut  bent  to  the  oars.  "  I  will 
stay  with  the  boat  while  you  and  the  chil- 
dren go  to  the  village,"  he  said,  when,  a 

127 


few  moments  later,  he  found  a  favorable 
spot  to  land. 

Mother  Meraut  was  out  of  the  boat 
almost  before  it  was  beached,  the  Twins 
sprang  out  after  her,  and  the  three  started 
up  the  road  to  the  village  on  a  run.  Groves 
of  trees  just  bursting  into  leaf  lay  between 
them  and  the  one  street  of  the  little  town, 
and  it  was  not  until  they  had  passed  it  that 
they  could  tell  how  much  damage  had  been 
done.  The  sight  that  met  their  eyes  as  they 
entered  the  village  was  not  reassuring,  but, 
hoping  against  hope,  they  ran  on  to  the  little 
house  which  had  been  Mother  Meraut's 
childhood  home.  At  the  threshold  they 
paused,  and  the  tears  which  Mother  Me- 
raut had  resolutely  refused  to  shed  when 
she  had  said  good-by  to  her  own  home  in 
Rheims  fell  freely  as  she  gazed  upon  the 
ruins  of  the  home  of  her  parents.  The 
house  was  empty,  the  windows  were  gone, 
the  door  was  wrenched  from  its  hinges, 
and  the  roof  was  open  to  the  sky.  The 
whole  village  was  in  much  the  same  con- 

128 


dition.  Every  house  was  empty,  the  street 
deserted. 

Neither  Mother  Meraut  nor  the  Twins 
said  a  word.  With  heavy  hearts  they  turned 
from  the  gaping  doorway  and  started  toward 
the  Chateau,  which  lay  half  a  mile  beyond 
the  village.  Not  a  soul  did  they  meet  until 
they  arrived  at  the  great  gate  which  marked 
the  entrance  to  the  park,  and  then  they  saw 
that  the  Chateau  too  had  suffered.  It  had 
been  partly  burned  out,  but  as  its  walls 
were  standing  and  one  wing  looked  habit- 
able, their  spirits  rose  a  little.  At  the  gate 
a  child  was  playing.  They  stopped.  "Can 
you  tell  me,  ma  petite,"  said  Mother  Me- 
raut, her  voice  trembling,  "whether  there 
is  any  one  here  by  the  name  of  Jamart  ?  " 

"  Mais  —  oui,"  answered  the  child,  sur- 
veying the  strangers  with  curiosity.  "Voi- 
la ! "  She  pointed  a  stubby  finger  toward  the 
Chateau,  and  there,  just  disappearing  behind 
a  corner  of  the  wall,  was  the  bent  figure  of 
an  old  woman  carrying  a  pail  of  water. 

With  a  cry  of  joy,  Mother  Meraut  sprang 
129 


forward,  and  Pierre  and  Pierrette  for  once 
in  their  lives,  run  as  they  would,  could  not 
keep  up  with  her.  She  fairly  flew  over 
the  ground,  and  when  the  Twins  at  last 
reached  her  side,  the  pail  of  water  was 
spilled  on  the  ground,  and  the  two  women 
were  weeping  in  each  other's  arms.  An 
old  man  now  came  toward  them  and  the  chil- 
dren flung  themselves  upon  him.  "Grand- 
pere! Grandpere!"  they  shouted,  and  then 
such  another  embracing  as  there  was! 

Grand'mere  kissed  the  Twins,  and  Grand- 
pere hugged  Mother  Meraut,  and  then,  be- 
cause the  tears  were  still  running  down 
their  cheeks,  Grandpere  pointed  to  the 
overturned  pail,  and  the  water  flowing  in 
little  wiggling  streams  through  the  dust. 
"Come,  dear  hearts,"  he  cried,  "are  these 
your  tears  ?  Weep  no  more,  then,  lest  we 
have  a  flood  after  our  fire!  This  is  a  time 
to  rejoice!  Wipe  your  eyes,  my  Antoi- 
nette, and  tell  us  how  you  came  here.  It 
is  as  if  the  sky  had  opened  to  let  down  three 
angels  —  and  where,  then,  is  Jacques  ?  " 

130 


By  this  time  a  group  of  people  had  gath= 
ered  about  them  —  the  little  remnant  of  the 
old  prosperous  village  of  Fontanelle.  "  Here 
we  are,  you  see,"  said  Grandpere,  "all  that 
are  left  of  us.  Every  able-bodied  young 
woman  was  driven  away  by  the  Germans 

131 


to  work  in  their  fields  — while  ours  lie  idle. 
Every  able-bodied  man  is  in  the  army. 
There  are  only  twenty-seven  of  us  left  — 
old  women,  children,  and  myself.  There 
you  have  our  history." 

Mother  Meraut  shook  each  old  friend  by 
the  hand,  looked  at  all  the  babies  and  chil- 
dren, and  proudly  showed  her  Twins  to 
them  in  return,  before  she  said  a  word  about 
the  sorrows  they  had  endured  in  Rheims, 
and  the  desperation  which  had  at  last  driven 
them  from  their  home.  The  people  listened 
without  comment.  They  had  all  suffered  so 
much  that  there  was  no  room  left  in  their 
hearts  for  new  grief,  but  when  she  told  them 
of  the  boat  and  her  lame  husband  they  re- 
joiced with  her  that  she  had  the  happiness 
at  least  of  a  united  family.  There  was  plenty 
of  room  in  their  hearts  for  joy  !  "  Come  with 
us,"  they  said.  "We  cannot  be  poorer.  Our 
cattle  are  driven  away;  we  have  no  strong 
laborers  to  till  our  fields,  no  seeds  to  plant 
in  them.  We  live  in  one  wing  and  the  out- 
houses of  the  Chateau,  but  hope  is  not  yet 

J32 


dead,  and  your  hands  are  strong.  Your  hus- 
band, too,  can  help,  and  we  shall  be  at  least 
no  worse  off  for  your  being  here." 

Grand'mere  spoke.  "  We  live  in  the  cow- 
stalls  of  the  stable,"  said  she.  "  It  is  not  so 
bad  ;  there  is  still  hay  in  the  loft,  and  there 
are  other  stalls  not  occupied." 

Mother  Meraut  crossed  herself.  "  If  the 
Blessed  Mother  of  Our  Lord  could  live  in 
a  stable,"  she  said,  "  such  shelter  is  surely 
good  enough  for  us." 

Father  Meraut,  sitting  patiently  in  the 
boat,  was  surprised,  a  little  later  as  he  looked 
anxiously  toward  the  village,  to  see  a  crowd 
of  people  coming  toward  him,  waving  caps 
and  hands  in  salutation.  Before  the  others 
ran  Pierre  and  Pierrette,  and  when  they 
reached  him  they  poured  forth  a  jumble  of 
excited  words,  from  which  he  was  able  to 
gather  that  Grandpere  and  Grand'mere  were 
alive  and  well,  and  that  there  was  a  place 
for  them  to  stay.  He  got  out  of  the  boat  to 
greet  the  people,  and  their  willing  hands 
took  the  bundles  and  helped  hide  the  Ark 

i33 


in  the  bushes,  and  the  whole  company  then 
started  back  to  the  Chateau,  Grandpere  lin- 
gering behind  the  others  to  keep  pace  with 
the  slow  progress  of  Father  Meraut. 

When  Grand'mere,  the  Twins,  and  their 
Mother  reached  the  stable  they  took  their 
bundles  from  the  hands  of  their  friends,  and 
went  in  to  inspect  their  new  home.  The 
stable  had  been  swept  and  scrubbed  until 
it  was  as  clean  as  it  could  be  made.  The 
large  box  stall  served  as  a  bedroom  for 
Grand'mere  and  Grandpere.  Above  their 
bed  of  hay,  covered  with  old  blankets  and 
quilts,  was  hung  a  wooden  crucifix.  This, 
with  two  boxes  for  seats,  was  all  the  furni- 
ture it  contained.  A  few  articles  of  clothing 
hung  about  on  nails,  and  in  the  open  space 
before  the  stalls  a  stove  was  placed,  the  pipe 
running  through  a  pane  of  glass  in  a  win- 
dow near  by. 

When  Grandpere  and  Father  Meraut  ar- 
rived, Mother  Meraut  met  them  at  the  door. 
"  Behold  our  new  apartment!  "  she  said,  and 
she  led  her  husband  to  one  of  the  clean  stalls, 

i34 


where  she  had  already  begun  to  setup  house- 
keeping. The  Twins  were  at  that  moment 
in  the  loft  overhead,  getting  hay  for  their 
beds,  and  Jacqueline,  exhausted  by  her  jour- 
ney, had  been  put  to  bed  in  the  manger. 

Father  Meraut  looked  about.  "This  is 
not  bad  for  the  summer,"  he  said,  "and  who 
knows  what  good  luck  may  come  to  us  by 
fall  ?  Perhaps  the  Germans  will  be  driven 
out  of  France  by  that  time,  and  surely  we 
shall  be  able  to  do  some  planting  even  now." 

"We  have  dug  up  the  ground  for  gar- 
dens as  best  we  could  with  the  few  tools 
we  have,"  said  Grandpere.  "  The  govern- 
ment would  send  us  seeds,  but  the  roads 
are  very  bad,  and  we  have  no  horses,  and 
supplies  are  hard  to  get  even  though  we  have 
money  to  pay  for  them.  The  nearest  town 
where  provisions  can  be  obtained  lies  six 
miles  below,  at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  and  it 
is  very  little  one  can  carry  on  one's  back." 

"Is  there  no  way  to  get  help  from  the 
soldiers'  camp  ? "  asked  Father  Meraut. 
"  They  must  get  supplies." 


"Yes,  but  they  cannot  of  themselves  at 
this  time  take  care  of  the  civilian  popula- 
tion," said  Grandpere.  "There  are  many- 
villages  in  the  same  condition,  and  the 
soldiers'  business  is  to  fight  for  France." 

"True,"  said  Father  Meraut.  Then  he 
exclaimed:  "I  have  it!  The  Ark!  It  will 
indeed  be  our  salvation  as  it  was  Father 
Noah's." 

Grandpere  looked  anxiously  at  Mother 
Meraut  and  touched  his  forehead.  "  He  is 
not  mad?"  he  asked. 

She  laughed.  "The  name  of  our  boat  is 
the  Ark,"  she  explained.  "We  can  use  it 
to  go  down  the  river  to  buy  provisions  if 
there  are  any  to  be  had." 

Grand'mere,  who  had  been  listening, 
looked  cautiously  about,  then  felt  under  the 
straw  of  her  bed  and  brought  out  a  stock- 
ing. "  See!"  she  said.  "  I  have  money.  The 
others  have  money  too,  but  of  what  use  is 
money  when  there  is  nothing  to  buy  and  no 
place  to  buy  it?" 

"We  must  find  a  place  to  buy  things," 
136 


said  Mother  Meraut  with  decision.  "Grand- 
pere  and  Jacques  can  take  the  Ark  and  go 
down  the  river  on  a  voyage  of  discovery, 
and  bring  back  the  supplies  that  we  most 
need." 

After  supper  the  whole  village  gathered 
about  the  stable  door  to  hear  all  the  news 
which  the  Meraut  family  had  brought  from 
the  outside  world.  For  months  they  had  not 
seen  a  newspaper,  and  there  had  been  no 
visitors  in  Fontanelle.  And  when  Father 
Meraut  had  finished  telling  them  all  the 
story  of  Rheims,  of  the  burning  of  the 
Cathedral,  of  the  miraculous  safety  of  the 
statue  of  Saint  Jeanne,  of  his  own  escape, 
and  the  final  destruction  of  the  roof  over 
their  heads,  and  their  flight  from  the  city, 
the  pressing  needs  of  the  little  village  and 
his  and  Grandpere's  proposed  voyage  were 
discussed,  and  it  was  very  late  when  at  last 
the  people  separated  and  the  little  village 
settled  down  for  the  night 


XI 
A  SURPRISE 


XI 
A  SURPRISE 

The  next  morning  the  whole  village  was  up 
early,  and  plans  were  perfected  for  the  voy- 
age of  Father  Meraut  and  Grandpere.  A 
long  list  of  necessary  articles  was  made 
out,  and  the  money  for  their  purchase  safely 
hidden  away  in  their  inside  pockets.  They 
were  just  about  to  start  down  the  road  to 
the  river,  when  suddenly  a  wonderful  thing 
happened.  Right  through  the  great  gate  of 
the  Chateau  rumbled  a  large  motor  truck 
with  an  American  flag  fluttering  from  the 
radiator!  It  was  driven  by  a  strange  young 
woman  in  a  smart  gray  uniform.  Beside 
her  on  the  driver's  seat  sat  an  older  woman 
dressed  the  same  way  and  carrying  in  her 
hand  a  black  medicine-case. 

The  girl  stopped  her  engine,  climbed  down 
to  the  ground,  and  approached  the  aston- 

141 


ished  people  of  Fontanelle.  "Bon  jour,'* 
she  said,  smiling.  Then  in  excellent  French 
she  explained  her  errand.  "  We  are  Ameri- 
cans," she  said,  and  at  that  name  every  face 
smiled  back  at  her.  "We  have  come  to  help 
you  restore  your  homes.  America  loves  and 
admires  the  French  people,  and  since  we 
women  cannot  fight  with  you,  we  wish  at 
least  to  help  in  the  reconstruction  of  your 
beautiful  France.  Your  government  has 
given  us  permission  to  start  our  work  here, 
and  has  promised  help  from  the  soldiers 
whose  camp  is  near.  The  money  we  bring 
from  America  will  purchase  materials,  and 
with  your  labor  and  the  help  of  the  soldiers 
we  shall  soon  see  what  can  be  done." 

For  a  moment  after  she  had  ceased  speak- 
ing there  was  silence.  The  people  of  Fon- 
tanelle were  too  astonished  for  words.  So 
much  good  fortune  after  all  their  sor- 
row left  them  stunned.  It  was  Pierre  who 
first  found  his  voice.  He  took  off  his  cap, 
swung  it  in  the  air  and  shouted,  "  Vive 
rAm6rique,"  at  the  top  of  his  lungs,  and 

142 


"Vive  l'Amerique,"  chorused  the  whole 
village,  relieved  to  be  able  to  vent  their 
feelings  in  sound. 

Mademoiselle  laughed.  "Vive  la  France," 
she  answered,  and  then,  turning  to  the 
truck,  she  cried,  "Come  and  see  what  we 
have  in  our  little  shop  on  wheels.  But  first 
let  me  introduce  to  you  Dr.  Miller.  She  is 
an  American  doctor  who  has  come  to  take 
care  of  any  who  may  be  sick." 

The  Doctor  had  already  climbed  down 
from  her  high  seat  and  was  opening  the 
back  of  the  truck.  She  smiled  and  shook 
hands  with  the  people.  "  Is  there  not  some- 
thing here  you  wish  to  buy?"  she  asked. 
"The  prices  are  plainly  marked." 

Everybody  now  crowded  about  the  truck, 
and  in  it,  —  oh,  wonderful, — piled  on  the 
floor  and  hanging  from  the  top  and  sides, 
were  the  very  things  for  which  they  had 
been  longing  so  eagerly  !  There  were  hoes, 
and  shovels,  and  rakes,  and  garden  seeds 
of  all  kinds.  There  were  bolts  of  cloth  and 
woolen  garments  and  wooden  shoes,  and 

H3 


yarn  for  knitting.  There  were  even  knitting- 
needles  !  And,  best  of  all,  there  was  food, 
food  such  as  they  had  not  seen  in  many 
weary  months.  Ah,  it  was  indeed  marvel- 
ous what  that  truck  contained  ! 

The  buying  began  at  once,  and  never  be- 
fore had  any  one  been  able  to  purchase  so 
much  for  a  franc !  Soon  there  was  nothing  left 
in  the  truck  but  some  bedding  and  other  arti- 
cles belonging  to  the  Doctor  and  Mademoi- 
selle, as  the  people  at  once  began  to  call  her. 

"  Will  you  not  come  with  me  to  my  apart- 
ment in  the  stable?"  said  Mother  Meraut 
cordially  to  the  two  women.  "  You  must  be 
tired  from  your  journey." 

"We  must  first  see  the  Commandant  at 
the  camp,"  said  the  Doctor,  "and  then  we 
shall  be  happy  if  you  will  find  some  lunch 
for  us.  It  is  necessary  to  see  at  once  if  our 
houses  have  come." 

"Your  houses!"  cried  Pierre,  so  sur- 
prised that  he  quite  forgot  his  manners. 
"But,  Madame,  it  is  not  possible  that  you 
ruirry  your  houses  with  you  like  the  snails?" 

144 


mil 


*XM 


The  Doctor  laughed.  "Not  just  like  the 
snails,"  she  said ;  "our  houses  have  been  sent 
on  ahead  of  us  in  sections,  with  the  army 
supplies,  and  are  no  doubt  here  in  the  care 
of  the  Commandant." 

"Go,   my  Pierre,   conduct  them  to  the 

145 


camp,"  said  his  Mother,  "and  when  you 
come  back,"  she  added,  turning  to  the  two 
women,  "  I  will  have  ready  for  you  the  best 
that  my  poor  house  affords."  The  Doctor 
and  Mademoiselle  thanked  Mother  Meraut, 
and  then,  following  Pierre,  started  down  the 
river  road  toward  the  camp  a  mile  or  more 
away. 

The  next  few  days  seemed  to  Pierre  and 
Pierrette,  and  indeed  to  all  the  inhabitants 
of  Fontanelle,  little  less  than  a  series  of  mir- 
acles. In  the  first  place,  the  Doctor  and 
Mademoiselle  had  scarcely  finished  the  good 
lunch  which  Mother  Meraut  had  waiting  for 
them  on  their  return  from  camp,  when  a 
great  truck,  loaded  with  sections  of  the 
portable  houses,  entered  the  great  gate  of 
the  Chateau.  It  was  followed  by  a  detach- 
ment of  soldiers  from  the  Foreign  Legion, 
sent  by  the  Commandant  to  erect  them. 
The  soldiers  were  also  Americans,  and 
Pierre  and  Pierrette  were  delighted  to  find 
that  both  "Jim"  and  "Uncle  Sam"  were 
among  them.    Indeed  Uncle  Sam  was  in 

146 


command  of  the  squad,  and  when  he  pre- 
sented himself  and  his  men  to  the  Doctor 
and  Mademoiselle,  he  explained  that  the 
Commandant  had  detailed  Americans  to 
this  duty,  as  he  thought  that  they  would 
more  easily  understand  what  the  ladies 
wished  to  have  done. 

The  whole  place  now  swarmed  with  peo- 
ple working  as  busily  as  bees  in  a  hive.  By 
night  one  house  was  fit  to  be  occupied. 
The  following  night  two  more  had  been 
erected,  and  the  soldiers  had  laid  tent  floors 
in  all  of  them.  The  day  after  that  six  more 
young  women  in  gray  came,  bringing  more 
supplies.  Under  the  generalship  of  the  Doc- 
tor, Mother  Meraut  was  installed  in  the 
carriage-house  which  opened  from  the  sta- 
ble, and  here  she  prepared  meals  for  her 
family  and  for  all  the  new-comers  as  well. 
The  Doctor  established  a  dispensary  in  one 
room  of  the  Chateau,  and.  Mademoiselle 
opened  a  store  in  the  basement,  keeping 
there  for  sale  a  large  quantity  of  the  sup- 
plies which  had  been  brought  by  the  six 

147 


young  women.  Father  Meraut  and  Grand- 
pere  worked  hard  on  the  gardens,  assisted 
by  Pierre  and  Pierrette  and  any  other  per- 
son in  the  village  who  was  capable  of  wield- 
ing a  hoe.  Soon  people  began  to  come  in 
from  the  neighboring  hamlets,  bringing  their 
sick  babies  to  the  Doctor  for  treatment.  The 
great  truck  was  loaded  with  supplies  re- 
ceived through  the  Army  Service  and  the 
Red  Cross,  and  the  young  women  took 
turns  in  driving  the  "Shop  on  Wheels" 
into  other,  less  favored  districts,  to  start 
there  work  similar  to  that  begun  at  Fon- 
tanelle. 

Uncle  Sam  and  Jim  came  so  often  to 
the  village  that  they  were  soon  on  friendly 
terms  with  every  one  in  it.  They  acted  as 
emissaries  between  the  camp  and  the  vil- 
lage, and  if  anything  was  needed  which 
was  beyond  the  power  of  these  determined 
women  to  supply,  Uncle  Sam  and  Jim 
seemed  always  by  some  miracle  to  accom- 
plish it.  One  day  the  Doctor  said  to  Jim : 
"  I  wish  there  were  some  way  of  getting  a 

148 


good  cow  here.  These  little  children  can- 
not get  rosy  and  strong  without  fresh  milk, 
and  they  have  n't  had  any  since  the  Ger- 
mans drove  away  their  cows." 

A  week  later  Jim  appeared  at  the  Cha- 
teau gate  leading  a  cow !  There  was  a  card 
tied  to  one  horn.  The  Doctor  removed  it 
and  read,  "  To  Dr.  Miller  for  the  little  chil- 
dren of  Fontanelle." 

"It's  from  the  Commandant,"  said  Jim, 
beaming  with  pride. 

The  cow  proved  such  a  success,  and  the 
babies  and  young  children  showed  at  once 
such  improvement,  that  the  Doctor  deter- 
mined that  they  should  have  not  only  milk 
but  fresh  eggs,  and  Mademoiselle  was  sent 
to  Paris  to  make  investigations,  and,  if 
possible,  place  an  order  for  more  cows  and 
some  hens.  Upon  her  return  she  announced 
that  a  load  of  live-stock  from  southern 
France  would  soon  arrive  at  the  nearest 
railroad  station,  five  miles  away. 

"  It 's  going  to  be  a  regular  menagerie," 
said  Mademoiselle,  when  she  told  Mother 

H9 


Meraut  about  it  "  There  will  be  two  more 
cows,  two  pigs,  a  pair  of  goats,  ten  pairs 
of  rabbits,  and  sixty  fowls." 

"  Mercy  upon  us!  "  cried  Mother  Meraut. 
"  Where  in  the  world  can  we  put  them  all? 
Must  we  move  out  of  our  apartment  to  ad- 
mit the  cows  ?  " 

"  No,"  laughed  Mademoiselle,  "we  must 
find  another  way  to  take  care  of  them.  The 
cows  can  stay  out  of  doors  now,  and  there 
is  grass  to  feed  them  and  the  goats.  They 
can  all  be  tethered  by  ropes,  if  necessary, 
but  we  must  find  a  secure  place  to  keep 
the  pigs  and  the  rabbits,  and  the  chicken- 
house  must  be  mended  and  put  in  order 
for  the  fowls." 

"  But  Madame  Corbeille  now  resides  in 
the  chicken-house.  What  will  become  of 
her  and  her  children?"  cried  Mother  Me- 
raut. 

"Easy  enough,"  said  Mademoiselle; 
"  there  is  still  room  in  your  stable,  is  there 
not?  For  example,  there  is  the  granary! 
It  will  do  excellently  for  the  Corbeilles. 

150 


Pierre  and  Pierrette  will  help  build  the  rab- 
bit-hutch, I  know,  and  there  we  are,  all 
provided  for!" 

So  it  was  arranged,  and  that  afternoon 
another  family  came  to  live  under  the  same 
roof  with  the  Merauts.  Grandpere,  with 
his  new  hammer  and  some  nails,  mended 
the  chicken-house,  and  then  helped  Pierre 
and  Pierrette  build  enclosures  for  the  rab- 
bits and  pigs  out  of  stones  and  rubble  from 
the  fallen  walls. 

At  last  the  day  came  when  all  the  crea- 
tures were  to  arrive,  and  Mademoiselle 
arranged  that  the  Twins,  Mother  Meraut, 
and  four  of  her  own  party  of  young  women 
should  go  to  the  railroad  station  to  get 
them.  The  great  truck  was  brought  out, 
ropes  were  then  thrown  in,  and  all  the 
people  who  composed  what  Mademoiselle 
called  the  "  Reception  Committee  "  climbed 
in  and  sat  on  the  floor,  while  Mademoiselle 
and  the  Doctor  occupied  the  driver's  seat. 
The  soldiers  had  done  some  work  on  the 
roads,  so  they  were  not  as  bad  as  they  had 


been  earlier  in  the  spring ;  but  they  were 
still  bad  enough,  and  the  people  in  the 
truck  were  bounced  about  like  kernels  of 
corn  in  a  popper. 

"Now,"  said  Mademoiselle,  when  they 
arrived  at  the  station,  "the  fowls  and  the 
rabbits  will  have  to  go  back  in  the  truck. 
That  will  be  easy,  for  they  came  in  crates, 
but  the  cows,  the  goats,  and  the  pigs  must 
be  either  led  or  driven." 

11  It  sounds  simple  enough,"  said  the  Doc- 
tor, "  but  have  any  of  you  ever  known  any 
cows  or  pigs  ?  Do  you  know  how  to  man- 
age them?" 

"I  have  an  acquaintance  with  cows," 
said  Mother  Meraut,  "but  to  goats  and 
pigs  I  am  a  stranger." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mademoiselle,"  Mother 
Meraut  shall  lead  the  way  with  the  cows. 
You,  Kathleen  and  Louise,"  she  said,  turn- 
ing to  two  of  the  gray-uniformed  girls,  ' '  you 
shall  attend  the  goats.  Mary  and  Martha 
may  tackle  the  pigs.  Pierre  and  Pierrette 
will  serve  excellently  as  short-stops  in  case 

I£2 


any  of  our  live-stock  gets  away,  and  the 
Doctor  and  I  will  bring  up  the  rear." 

"  It 's  going  to  be  a  regular  circus  !  "  said 
Kathleen.  "  I  feel  as  if  we  ought  to  wear 
spangles  and  be  led  by  a  band." 

"We  have  n't  any  clown,  though,"  said 
Martha. 

"I  should  n't  wonder,"  said  Mary,  "if 
we'd  all  look  like  clowns  in  this  parade." 

The  car  with  the  creatures  in  it  was  stand- 
ing on  a  side  track,  and  the  station  agent, 
looking  doubtfully  at  the  girls,  led  the  way 
to  it,  and  after  the  rabbits  and  fowls  had 
been  loaded  into  the  truck,  placed  a  gang- 
plank for  the  cows  to  walk  down,  and  opened 
the  door  of  the  car.  But  nothing  happened; 
the  cows  obstinately  refused  to  step  down 
the  plank. 

"  Here 's  a  rope,"  said  Mademoiselle, 
at  last,  throwing  one  up  to  the  agent.  "  I 
hoped  we  should  n't  need  it,  but  I  guess 
we  do." 

The  agent  fixed  the  rope  to  the  horns  of 
one  of  the  cows,  and  threw  the  other  end 

»53 


to  Mademoiselle.  "Now/'  said  he,  "puii 
gently  to  begin  with." 

Mademoiselle,  pale  but  valiant,  pulled, 

quietly  at  first,  then  harder.  The  cow  put 

her  head  down,  braced  her  feet  and  backed. 

'Come  on,"  cried  Mademoiselle  to  the 

others,  "we'll  all  have  to  pull  together." 

Any  one  who  could  get  hold  of  it  seized 
the  rope. 

"I  never  played  'pom  pom  pull  away' 
with  a  cow  before,"  quavered  Louise.  "  I 
—  I — don't  feel  sure  she  knows  the  rules 
of  the  game ! " 

"  She  '11  soon  learn,"  said  Mademoiselle, 
grimly.  "Don't  welch.  Now,  then,  one  — 
two  —  thi  se  — -  pull !  " 

At  the  word,  they  all  leaned  back  and 
pulled.  The  cow,  yielding  suddenly,  shot 
out  of  the  car  like  a  cork  out  of  a  champagne 
bottle,  and  the  girls  attached  to  the  rope  went 
down  like  a  row  of  bricks.  The  rope  flew 
out  of  their  hands,  and  the  cow  went  career- 
ing down  the  track  with  the  rope  dangling 
wildly  after  her,  while  the  other  cow,  fired 

154 


by  her  example,  came  bawling  after.  When 
they  found  grass  by  the  roadside  they  be- 
came reasonable  at  once.  Mother  Meraut 
then  took  charge  of  them,  and,  as  Kathleen 
remarked,  "that  ended  the  first  movement." 
The  second  began  when  the  goats  were  un- 
loaded. Mademoiselle  took  no  chances  with 
them.  She  got  the  agent  to  put  ropes  on 
them  in  the  first  place,  and  Kathleen  and 
Louise,  cautiously  advancing  to  the  plank, 
held  up  propitiatory  offerings  of  grass. 

"That's  right,"  laughed  Mademoiselle, 
" leading  citizens  with  bouquets!  Perhaps 
a  speech  of  welcome  might  help.  They 
are  n't  the  first  old  goats  to  be  received  that 
way." 

"Hush  !  "  implored  Louise.  "  My  knees 
are  knocking  together  so  I  can  hardly  stand 
up  now,  and  suppose  they  should  butt !  " 

"In  the  words  of  the  immortal  bard  'butt 
me  no  butts,'  "  murmured  Kathleen,  as  they 
reached  the  gang-plank. 

The  agent,  having  attached  the  rope  and 
released  the  goats  from  their  moorings,  stood 

i55 


back  and  gave  them  full  access  to  the  open 
door,  holding  the  other  end  of  the  rope 
firmly  in  his  hands.  "You  can  take  the 
ropes  when  they  are  safely  down  the  plank," 
he  cried  gallantly.  "They  need  a  man  to 
handle  them." 

"Oh,  thank  you,"  said  Kathleen  and 
Louise  with  one  voice. 

The  goats  accepted  the  suggestion  of  the 
open  door  at  once  and  galloped  down  the 
gang-plank  with  such  reckless  speed  that 
the  agent  lost  his  footing  and  came  coast- 
ing down  after  them.  "  Mille  tonneurs  !  "  he 
exclaimed,  as  he  reached  the  end  of  the 
gang-plank  and  struck  a  bed  of  gravel. 
"  Those  goats  are  possessed  of  the  devil ! " 

The  Doctor  was  beside  him  in  an  instant. 
"  I  hope  you  are  not  injured,"  she  cried.  "  Is 
there  anything  I  can  do  for  you  ?  I  am  a 
doctor." 

"  No,  Madame,"  said  the  agent,  bowing 
politely,  as  he  got  himself  on  his  feet  again, 
"  I  am  hurt  only  in  my  pride,  and  you  have 
no  medicine  for  thatl " 

156 


"Oh,"  cried  Mademoiselle,  "how  brave 
it  was  of  you  !  It 's  as  you  say  —  they  need 
a  man  to  manage  them  !  " 

The  station  agent  looked  at  the  goats, 
who  were  now  grazing  peacefully,  attended 
by  Kathleen  and  Louise,  and  then,  a  little 
thoughtfully,  at  Mademoiselle.  "  It  is  indeed 
better  that  a  man  should  take  these  risks," 
he  said,  throwing  out  his  chest.  "  And  there 
are  still  the  pigs !  I  doubt  not  they  are  as 
full  of  demons  as  the  Gadarene  Swine  them- 
selves ! " 

"  What  should  we  do  without  your  help  ?  " 
said  Mademoiselle.  "The  pigs  cannot  be 
roped ! " 

"No,"  said  the  agent  sadly,  "they  can- 
not." He  considered  a  moment.  Then  he 
motioned  to  Pierre  and  Pierrette,  who  were 
standing  with  Mary  and  Martha  at  a  re- 
spectful distance.  "  Come  here,  all  of  you," 
he  said,  addressing  them  from  the  top  of 
the  gang-plank;  "pigs  must  be  taken  by 
strategy.  I  am  an  old  soldier.  I  will  engi- 
neer an  encircling  movement.  Mademoiselle, 

iS7 


will  you  stand  here  at  the  left,  and,  Madame 
la  Docteur,  will  you  station  yourself  at  my 
right  ?  The  rest  of  you  arrange  yourselves 
in  a  curved  line  extending  westward  from 
Madame.  Then  I  will  release  the  pigs,  and 
you,  watching  their  movements,  will  head 
them  off  if  they  start  in  the  wrong  direction. 
Voila!  We  will  now  commence." 

He  went  back  into  the  car,  and  in  another 
moment  the  pigs,  squealing  vociferously, 
thundered  down  the  gang-plank,  gave  one 
look  at  the  "  encircling  movement,"  and, 
wheeling  about,  instantly  dashed  under  the 
car  and  out  on  the  other  side  into  an  open 
field.  It  was  not  until  they  had  made  a  com- 
plete tour  of  the  village,  pursued  by  the  en- 
tire personnel  of  the  "encircling  movement" 
that  they  were  at  last  turned  into  the  Fon- 
tanelle  road. 

"This  isn't  —  the  way — this  parade  — 
was  advertised!"  gasped  Kathleen,  as  she 
struggled  with  her  goat  in  an  effort  to  take 
her  appointed  place  in  the  caravan.  "  The  — 
cows  —  were  to  —  go  —  first  1 " 

ic8 


"Never  mind,"  answered  Louise  cheer- 
fully, as  she  pulled  her  goat  into  the  road. 
"A  little  informality  will  be  overlooked,  I  'm 
sure." 

Mother  Meraut  followed  them  with  the 
cows,  and  last  of  all  Mademoiselle  and  the 
Doctor  climbed  into  the  truck  and  brought 
up  the  rear  of  the  procession,  with  all  the 
roosters  crowing  at  the  top  of  their  lungs. 

There  is  not  time  to  tell  of  all  the  adven- 
tures that  befell  them  on  the  eventful  jour- 
ney back  to  Fontanelle.  One  can  merely 
guess  that  it  must  have  been  full  of  excite- 
ment, since  the  Reception  Committee  did 
not  reach  the  village  with  their  charges  until 
some  time  after  dark.  Mother  Meraut  was 
worried  because  she  was  not  home  in  time 
to  get  a  hot  supper  for  the  tired  girls,  but 
when  they  arrived  they  found  that  Grand'- 
mere  had  stepped  into  the  breach,  and  had 
made  steaming  hot  soup  for  every  one. 
Grandpere  and  Father  Meraut  took  charge 
of  the  live-stock,  and  Mother  Corbeille 
milked  the  cows. 

l$9 


As  they  dragged  themselves  wearily  to 
bed  that  night,  Kathleen  decorated  Made- 
moiselle with  a  huge  cross,  —  cut  out  of 
paper, — which  she  pinned  upon  her  night- 
gown. "For  extreme  gallantry,"  she  ex- 
plained, "in  leading  your  forces  into  action 
in  face  of  a  fierce  charge  by  two  goats,  and 
for  taking  prisoner  two  rebellious  pigs  ! " 
Then  she  saluted  ceremoniously  and  tum- 
bled into  bed. 


XII 
MORNING  IN  THE  MEADOW 


*&&  -^j>     j 


t  d  \\  II  Yvvr  -  W  b\  "•■/:    \ 


XII 
MORNING  IN  THE  MEADOW 

As  summer  came  on,  life  seemed  less  and 
less  sad  to  the  people  of  Fontanelle.  With 
the  coming  of  the  Americans  the  outlook 
had  so  changed  that,  although  the  war  was 
not  yet  over,  they  could  look  forward  to  the 
future  with  some  degree  of  hope.  The  news 
brought  from  Rheims  by  occasional  refu- 
gees was  always  sad.  The  Germans  con- 
tinued to  shell  the  defenseless  city,  and  the 
Cathedral  sustained  more  and  more  injuries, 
but  the  beautiful  stained-glass  windows 
had  been  carefully  taken  down,  the  broken 
pieces  put  together  as  far  as  possible,  and 
the  whole  shipped  to  safer  places  in  France. 
The  statue  of  Jeanne  dArc  within  the 
church  had  also  been  taken  from  its  niche, 
while  the  one  before  the  Cathedral  doors 
still  remained  unharmed  by  shot  and  shell. 

163 


It  comforted  Mother  Meraut  to  think 
of  that  valiant  figure  standing  alone  amid 
such  desolation.  She  had  other  things  to 
comfort  her  as  well.  With  food  and  fresh 
air  the  roses  bloomed  again  in  the  cheeks 
of  her  children.  Soon,  too,  the  gardens  be- 
gan to  yield  early  vegetables.  In  the  morn- 
ing, instead  of  hearing  the  sound  of  guns, 
they  were  awakened  by  bird-songs,  or  by 
the  crowing  of  cocks  and  the  bleating  of 
goats.  These  were  pleasant  sounds  to  the 
people  of  Fontanelle,  for  they  brought 
memories  of  peaceful  and  prosperous  days, 
and  the  promise  of  more  to  come. 

The  rebuilding  of  the  village  was  begun 
by  the  end  of  June,  and  the  sound  of  saws 
and  hammers  cheered  them  with  the  pros- 
pect of  comfortable  homes  before  cold 
weather  should  come  again.  The  work  pro- 
ceeded slowly,  for  the  workers  were  few, 
even  though  their  good  friend  the  Com- 
mandant gave  them  all  the  help  he  could. 
There  were  now  a  multitude  of  little  chicks 
running  about  on  what  had  been  the  stately 

164 


lawns  of  the  Chateau,  and  there  were 
twenty  new  little  rabbits  in  the  rabbit-hutch. 
As  the  rabbits  could  not  forage  for  them- 
selves, it  was  necessary  for  others  to  forage 
for  them,  and  this  work  fell  to  the  lot  of 
Pierre  and  Pierrette. 

One  summer  morning  one  of  the  roosters 
crowed  very,  very  early,  and  the  Twins, 
having  no  clock,  supposed  it  was  time  for 
them  to  get  up  and  go  for  fresh  leaves  and 
roots  for  the  rabbits,  as  they  did  every  day. 
They  rose  at  once,  and  the  sun  was  just 
peering  above  the  eastern  horizon  as  they 
came  out  of  the  stable  door.  They  went  to 
the  rabbit-hutch,  and  the  rabbits,  seeing 
them,  stood  up  on  their  hind  legs  and  wig- 
gled their  noses  hungrily. 

11  Rabbits  do  have  awful  appetites,"  said 
Pierre,  a  little  ruefully,  as  he  looked  down 
at  the  empty  food-box.  "Just  think  what  a 
pile  of  things  we  brought  them  yesterday." 

"There's  nothing  to  do  but  get  them 
more,  I  suppose,"  answered  Pierrette. 

"  I  know  where  there  's  just  bushels  and 
165 


bushels  of  water-cress,"  said  Pierre,  "but 
it 's  quite  a  long  distance  off.  You  know  the 
brook  that  flows  through  the  meadow  be- 
tween here  and  camp?  It's  just  stuffed 
with  it,  and  rabbits  like  it  better  than  almost 
anything." 

"Let's  go  and  get  some  now,"  said 
Pierrette.  "We  can  take  the  clothes-basket 
and  bring  back  enough  to  last  all  day." 

Pierre  went  for  the  basket,  and  the  two 
children  started  down  the  road  which  ran 
beside  the  meadow  toward  the  camp.  It  was 
so  early  that  not  another  soul  in  the  village 
was  up.  Even  the  rooster  had  gone  to  sleep 
again  after  his  misguided  crowing.  One  pale 
little  star  still  winked  in  the  morning  sky, 
but  the  birds  were  already  winging  and 
singing,  as  the  children,  carrying  the  basket 
between  them,  set  forth  upon  their  quest. 

When  they  reached  the  brook,  they  set 
down  the  basket,  took  off  their  wooden 
shoes,  and,  wading  into  the  stream,  began 
gathering  great  bunches  of  the  cress.  They 
were  so  busy  filling  their  basket  that  they 

166 


did  not  notice  the  sun  had  gone  out  of  sight 
behind  a  cloud-bank,  and  that  the  air  was  still 
with  that  strange  breathless  stillness  that 
precedes  a  storm.  It  was  not  until  a  loud  clap 
of  thunder,  accompanied  by  a  flash  of  light- 
ning, suddenly  broke  the  silence,  that  they 
knew  the  storm  was  upon  them.  When  they 
looked  up,  the  meadow  grasses  were  bend- 
ing low  before  a  sudden  wind,  and  the  trees 

167 


were  swaying  to  and  fro  as  if  in  terror, 
against  the  background  of  an  angry  sky. 

"Wow !  "  said  Pierre.  "  I  guess  we  're  in 
for  it !  We  can't  possibly  get  home  before 
it  breaks." 

"Oh,"  gasped  Pierrette,  as  another  peal 
of  thunder  shook  the  air,  "  I  don't  want  to 
stay  out  in  it.    What  shall  we  do?" 

Pierre  looked  about  him.  A  little  dis- 
tance beyond  the  brook,  toward  the  camp, 
there  was  a  straw-stack  with  a  rough  straw- 
thatched  shed  beside  it,  half  hidden  under 
a  group  of  small  trees.  Pierre  pointed  to 
it.  "We  '11  leave  the  basket  here,"  he  said, 
"and  hide  under  the  straw  until  the  storm 
is  over.  Then  we  can  come  back  again,  get 
it,  and  go  home." 

Another  clap  of  thunder,  louder  still,  sent 
them  flying  on  their  way,  and  they  did  not 
speak  again  until  they  were  under  the  shel- 
ter of  the  shed.  The  first  big  drops  fell  as 
they  reached  it,  and  then  the  storm  broke 
in  a  fury  of  wind  and  water.  The  chil- 
dren  cowered  against  the   stack   itself  as 

168 


far  as  possible  out  of  reach  of  the  driving 
rain. 

They  had  been  there  but  a  few  moments, 
when  they  heard  a  new  sound  in  addition 
to  the  roar  of  the  wind  and  the  patter  of 
the  rain  upon  the  leaves.  It  was  the  dull 
tread  of  heavy  footsteps,  and  they  were 
surprised  to  see  a  man  running  toward  the 
straw-stack,  his  head  bent  to  shield  his  face 
from  the  rain,  under  the  brim  of  an  old  hat. 
His  clothes  were  rough  and  unkempt,  and 
altogether  his  appearance  was  so  forbidding 
that  the  children  instinctively  dived  under 
the  straw  at  the  edge  of  the  stack  like  fright- 
ened mice,  and  burrowed  backward  until 
they  were  completely  hidden,  though  they 
could  still  peep  out  through  the  loose  straw. 

The  man  reached  the  shed  almost  before 
they  were  out  of  view,  but  it  was  evident 
that  he  had  not  seen  them,  for  he  did  not 
glance  in  their  direction.  He  took  off  his  hat 
and  shook  the  rain-drops  from  it.  Then  he 
wiped  his  face  and  neck  with  a  soiled  hand- 
kerchief and  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  a  bench 

169 


that  had  once  been  used  for  salting  cattle. 
He  sat  still  for  a  little  while,  with  his  feet 
drawn  up  on  the  bench  and  his  hands  clasp- 
ing his  knees  the  better  to  escape  the  rain. 
Then  he  began  to  grow  restless.  He  walked 
back  and  forth  and  peered  out  into  the  rain 
in  the  direction  of  the  camp.  The  children 
were  so  frightened  they  could  hear  their 
own  hearts  beat,  but  they  had  been  in  dan- 
ger so  many  times,  and  in  so  many  differ- 
ent ways  that  they  kept  their  presence  of 
mind,  and  were  able  to  follow  closely  his 
every  move.  Soon  they  heard  the  sound  of 
more  footsteps,  and  suddenly  there  dashed 
under  the  shed  a  soldier  in  the  uniform  of 
France.  It  was  evident  that  the  first  man 
expected  him,  for  he  showed  no  surprise 
at  his  coming,  and  the  two  sat  down  to- 
gether on  the  bench  and  began  to  talk. 

The  wind  had  now  subsided  a  little,  and 
though  they  spoke  in  low  tones  the  chil- 
dren could  hear  every  word. 

"Whew!"  said  the  soldier  as  he  shook 
his  rain-coat.    "Nasty  weather." 

170 


"All  the  better  for  our  purposes,"  an- 
swered the  other  man.  "  There  's  less  chance 
of  our  being  seen." 

"  Not  much  chance  of  that,  anyway,  so 
early  in  the  morning  as  this,"  answered  the 
soldier,  looking  at  his  watch.  "  It 's  not  yet 
four  o'clock! " 

"Best  not  to  linger,  anyway,"  said  the 
other  man.  "That  Captain  of  yours  has 
the  eyes  of  a  hawk.  I  was  up  at  camp  the 
other  day  selling  cigarettes  and  chocolate, 
and  he  eyed  me  as  if  he  was  struck  with 
my  beauty." 

"I  wish  you'd  keep  away  from  camp," 
said  the  soldier,  impatiently.  "  It  is  n't 
necessary,  and  you  might  run  into  some 
one  who  knew  you  back  in  Germany.  There 
are  all  kinds  of  people  in  the  Foreign  Le- 
gion. I  tell  you,  it  is  n't  safe,  and  besides, 
I  can  get  all  the  information  we  need  with- 
out it." 

"All  right,  General,"  responded  the  other, 
grinning.  "But  have  you  got  it?  That's 
the  question.   I  expect  that  buzzard  will  be 

171 


flying  around  again  over  this  field  in  a  night 
or  so, — the  moon  is  'most  full  now,  and 
the  nights  are  light,  — and  I  've  got  to  be 
able  to  signal  him  just  how  to  find  the 
powder  magazine  and  the  other  munitions. 
Then  he  can  swoop  right  over  there  and 
drop  one  of  his  little  souvenirs  where  it 
will  do  the  most  good  and  fly  away  home. 
I  advise  you  to  keep  away  from  that  sec- 
tion of  the  camp  yourself." 

"Here  is  the  map,"  said  the  soldier, 
drawing  a  paper  from  his  pocket,  "and  there 
are  also  statistics  as  to  the  number  of  men 
and  all  I  can  find  out  about  plans  for  using 
them.  Take  good  care  of  it.  It  would  n't  be 
healthy  to  be  found  with  it  on  you." 

Thefirst  man  pocketed  the  paper.  "That's 
all,  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"All  for  this  time,  anyway,"  answered 
the  soldier. 

The  man  looked  at  him  narrowly. 

"Well,"  said  the  soldier,  "what's  the 
matter?  Don't  I  look  like  a  Frenchman?" 

"You'd  deceive  the  devil  himself,"  an- 
172 


swered  the  man  with  a  short  laugh.  "  No 
one  would  ever  think  you  were  born  in  Ba- 
varia. Don't  forget  and  stick  up  the  corners 
of  your  mustache,  though.  That  might  give 
you  away.  When  do  you  think  you  can  get 
over  to  see  that  fort?" 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  the  soldier 
sharply,  "  but  I  '11  meet  you  here  day  after 
to-morrow  at  the  same  hour.  Auf  Wieder- 
sehen,"  and  he  was  gone. 

After  his  departure,  his  companion  lin- 
gered a  moment,  lit  a  cigarette,  looked  up 
at  the  sky,  and,  seeing  that  the  shower 
was  nearly  over,  strolled  off  in  the  opposite 
direction. 

The  children,  looking  after  him,  saw  him 
come  upon  their  basket  near  the  brook,  ex- 
amine it  carefully,  and  then  look  about  in 
every  direction  as  if  searching  for  the  own- 
ers. Seeing  no  one,  he  gave  it  a  kick  and 
passed  on.  They  watched  him,  not  daring 
to  move  until  he  turned  toward  the  river 
and  was  out  of  sight.  Later  they  saw  a  boat 
come  from  the  shelter  of  some  bushes  on  the 

173 


WkcJL  "t 


WM 


bank,  and  slip  quietly  down  the  stream  with 
the  man  in  it. 

When  they  dared  move  once  more  they 
crawled  out  from  under  the  straw,  and  Pier- 
rette said,  "Well,  what  do  you  think  of 
that?" 

"Think!"  Pierre  said,  choking  with 
wrath.  "  I  think  he  's  a  miserable  dog  of  a 
spy !  They  are  both  spies !  And  they  are 
going  to  try  to  blow  up  the  whole  camp  I 

i74 


You  come  along  with  me."  He  seized  Pier- 
rette by  the  hand,  and  the  .two  flew  over  the 
wet  meadow  toward  the  distant  camp. 

"  Whatever  should  we  do  if  we  met  that 
soldier?"  gasped  Pierrette,  breathless  with 
running  and  excitement. 

"Look  stupid,"  said  Pierre  promptly. 
'•  He  did  n't  see  us,  and  he  rd  never  dream 
we  had  seen  him;  but,  by  our  blessed  Saint 
Jeanne,  this  is  where  I  get  even  with  the 
Germans  1  Let 's  find  Jim  and  Uncle  Sam." 

Reveille  was  just  sounding  as  they  en- 
tered the  camp  and  presented  themselves  at 
the  door  of  Uncle  Sam's  tent.  During  the 
weeks  that  had  elapsed  since  their  arrival  in 
France,  Jim  and  Uncle  Sam  had  acquired  a 
fair  working  knowledge  of  the  language,  and 
though  it  still  remained  a  queer  mixture  of 
French  and  English,  they  and  the  children 
managed  to  understand  each  other  very 
well. 

"Bonjour,  kids!"  cried  Uncle  Sam  in 
astonishment,  when  he  saw  the  two  chil- 
dren at  the  tent  door.   "What  on  earth  are 

i75 


you  doing  here?  Don't  you  know  visitors 
are  not  expected  in  camp  at  this  hour?" 

"  Sh  —  sh  !  "  said  Pierre,  laying  his  fin- 
ger on  his  lips.  "  Nobody  must  see  us!  We 
have  important  news  !  " 

Uncle  Sam  sat  up  in  bed.  "  Why,  I  be- 
lieve you  have,"  he  said,  looking  attentively 
at  their  pale  faces.  "  Just  waita  minute  while 

176 


I  get  my  clothes  on.  Here,  you  —  Jim,"  he 
added,  poking  a  recumbent  figure  in  the 
adjoining  cot.   "  Roll  out !  It 's  reveille !  " 

Jim  sat  up  at  once  and  rubbed  his  eyes, 
and,  after  a  hurried  consultation,  the  two 
men  turned  the  two  children  with  their  faces 
to  the  wall  in  one  corner  of  the  tent,  while 
they  made  a  hasty  toilet  in  the  other. 

"Now,  then,  out  with  it,"  said  Uncle  Sam 
a  few  moments  later.  "Que  vooly-voo? 
What's  up?" 

Jim  sat  down  beside  him  on  the  edge  of 
the  cot,  and  the  two  men  listened  in  amaze- 
ment to  the  story  the  two  children  had  to 
tell.  When  they  had  finished,  Uncle  Sam 
wasted  no  words.  "Come  with  me  to  the 
Captain  tooty  sweet,"  he  said.  And  Jim 
added,  as  he  patted  the  Twins  tenderly  on 
the  head,  "By  George,  mes  enfants,  you 
ought  to  get  the  war  cross  for  this  day's 
work." 

A  few  moments  more,  and  the  children 
and  Uncle  Sam  were  ushered  by  an  orderly 
into  the  presence  of  the  Captain,  who  was 

177 


just  in  the  act  of  shaving.  Uncle  Sam's 
message  to  him  had  been  so  imperative  that 
they  were  admitted  at  once  to  his  presence, 
even  though  his  face  was  covered  with  lather 
and  he  was  likely  to  fill  his  mouth  with  soap 
if  he  opened  it.  Uncle  Sam  saluted,  and  the 
Twins,  wishing  to  be  as  polite  as  possible, 
saluted  too.  The  Captain  returned  the  sa- 
lute, and  went  on  shaving  as  he  listened  to 
their  story,  grunting  now  and  then  emphati- 
cally instead  of  speaking,  on  account  of  the 
soap.  When  Pierre  came  to  what  the  soldier 
had  said  under  the  shed,  he  was  so  much 
interested  that  he  cut  his  chin. 

"So  that's  their  program,  is  it?"  he 
sputtered,  soap  and  all,  mopping  his  chin. 
"  But  how  on  earth  did  you  happen  to  be  in 
such  a  place  as  that  at  such  an  hour  in  the 
morning?" 

Pierre  explained  about  the  rabbits  and 
the  cress,  and  Uncle  Sam  added:  "They're 
from  Fontanelle.  Their  father  is  a  soldier 
wounded  at  the  Marne,  and  they  lived  under 
fire  in  Rheims  for  eight  months  before  cora- 

178 


ing  here.    They're  some  kids,  believe  me! 
They  know  what  war  is." 

"Yes,"  said  the  Captain.  "I  remember 
them;  they  came  up  the  river  some  weeks 
ago."  Then  he  turned  to  the  children. 
"Would  you  know  that  soldier  if  you  were 
to  see  him  again?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  children. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  Captain,  "the  men 
will  go  to  breakfast  soon.  You  stay  with  Sam 
and  watch  them,  and  if  you  see  that  man  go 
by  you  step  on  Sam's  foot.  No  one  must 
see  you  do  it.  Be  sure  you  don't  make  a 
mistake  now,"  he  added,  "and  if  you  really 
do  unearth  the  rascal,  it's  the  best  day's 
work  you  ever  did,  for  yourselves  as  well  as 
for  France.  Sam,  you  report  to  me  after- 
wards, and  be  sure  you  give  no  occasion  for 
suspicion  to  any  one." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Sam,  and  saluted.  Pierre 
and  Pierrette  saluted  also. 

The  Captain  returned  the  salute  with  cere- 
mony. "You  are  true  soldiers  of  France," 
he  said  to  the  Twins  as  they  left  his  tent. 

179 


o 


If  their  comrades  were  surprised  to  see 
Uncle  Sam  standing  with  two  children  by 
his  side  while  the  others  passed  into  the 
mess  tent  with  cups  and  plates  in  hand,  no 
one  said  anything.   It  was  a  little  irregular 

1 80 


to  be  sure  —  but  then —Americans  were 
always  unexpected  !  For  a  long  time  the 
men  filed  by,  and  still  there  was  no  sign 
of  the  face  they  sought.  At  last,  however, 
Pierre  came  down  solidly  on  Uncle  Sam's 
right  foot,  and  at  the  same  time  Pierrette 
touched  his  left  with  her  wooden  shoe.  There, 
right  in  front  of  them,  carrying  his  plate  and 
cup,  and  twirling  his  mustache,  was  the 
man  they  sought! 

The  Twins  stood  still,  and  not  by  the 
quiver  of  an  eyelash  did  they  betray  any 
excitement  until  the  man  had  passed  into 
the  tent.  Then  Uncle  Sam  said  to  them, 
"Now  you  scoot  for  home,  or  your  Mother 
will  be  worried  to  death !  Tell  your  Father 
and  Mother  all  about  it,  but  don't  tell  an- 
other soul  at  present."  The  children  flew 
back  across  the  meadow,  picked  up  their 
basket  of  cress,  and  when  they  reached  the 
Chateau,  fed  the  hungry  rabbits.  Then  they 
found  their  Father  and  Mother  and  told 
them  their  morning's  adventures. 


o 


XIII 
CHILDREN  OF  THE  LEGION 


XIII 

CHILDREN  OF  THE  LEGION 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  because  things 
were  more  cheerful  for  the  inhabitants  of 
Fontanelle,  that  they  had  forgotten  the  war. 
They  were  reminded  of  it  every  day,  not 
only  by  the  presence  of  soldiers,  but  by  the 
sound  of  distant  guns,  and  by  the  visits  of 
German  airplanes.  Often  in  the  middle  of 
the  night  an  alarm  would  be  given,  and  the 
people  of  the  village  would  spring  from  their 
beds  and  seek  refuge  in  the  cellars  of  the 
Chateau  —  that  is,  all  but  Kathleen;  she 
obstinately  refused  to  go,  even  when  the 
Doctor  reasoned  with  her.  "  Let  me  die  in 
my  bed,"  she  pleaded.  "It's  better  form. 
Our  best  people  have  always  done  it,  and 
besides  when  I  'm  waked  suddenly  that  way 
I  'm  apt  to  be  cross."  So,  when  the  sound 
of  the  buzzing  motor  was  heard  in  the  sky, 

185 


she  simply  drew  the  covers  over  her  head, 
and  stayed  where  she  was,  while  a  strange, 
half-clad  procession,  recruited  from  stables 
and  granary,  filed  into  the  Chateau  cellar. 
These  raids  were  likely  to  occur  on  bright 
nights,  and  as  the  time  of  the  full  moon 
approached,  the  people  of  the  village  grew 
more  watchful  and  slept  less  soundly. 

On  the  night  following  the  adventure  of 
the  Twins  in  the  meadow,  though  the  moon 
shone,  no  aerial  visitor  appeared,  nor  did 
one  come  the  next  night  after.  Neither  did 
any  news  from  camp  come  to  the  village. 
Pierre  and  Pierrette  longed  to  tell  Made- 
moiselle and  the  Doctor  their  secret,  but 
Uncle  Sam  had  told  them  to  share  it  with 
no  one  but  their  parents,  and  they  knew 
obedience  was  the  first  requisite  of  a  good 
soldier;  so  they  said  nothing,  and  nearly 
burst  in  consequence.  They  went  no  more 
to  the  meadow  after  cress,  however.  Mother 
Meraut  saw  to  that.  If  they  had  gone  there 
on  the  morning  of  the  next  day  but  one 
after  their  encounter  with  the  spies,  they 

1 86 


would  have  had  a  still  more  thrilling  expe* 
rience,  for  at  midnight  Uncle  Sam,  Jim, 
and  the  Captain  had  quietly  stolen  away 
from  camp  and  hidden  themselves  in  the 
straw.  There  they  stayed  until  in  the  gray 
of  the  early  dawn  they  saw  a  boat  come  up 
the  river,  and  the  slouching  figure  of  the 
spy  stalk  across  the  meadow  to  his  rendez- 
vous under  the  shed.  They  stayed  there 
until  the  soldier  appeared,  and  until  they 
had  heard  with  their  own  ears  the  plan  for 
signaling  the  German  airplane  that  night, 
and  for  giving  information  which  would  en- 
able the  aviator  to  blow  up  their  stores  of 
powder  and  ammunition.  Then,  suddenly 
and  swiftly,  at  a  prearranged  signal,  the 
three  men  sprang  from  the  straw,  and  the 
astonished  spies  found  themselves  sur- 
rounded and  covered  by  the  muzzles  of  three 
guns.  They  saw  at  once  that  resistance  was 
useless,  and  sullenly  obeyed  the  Captain's 
order  to  throw  up  their  hands.  They  were 
then  marched  back  to  camp,  turned  over  to 
the  proper  authorities,  and  the  next  morn- 

187 


ing  at  sunrise  they  met  the  fate  of  all  spies 
who  are  caught. 

That  was  not  the  end  of  the  affair,  how- 
ever, for,  knowing  that  the  airplane  which 
the  spy  had  referred  to  as  the  "Buzzard" 
was  to  be  expected  that  night,  and  that  the 
German  aviator  would  look  for  signals  from 
the  straw-stack,  plans  were  made  for  his 
reception,  and  this  part  of  the  drama  was 
witnessed  from  the  village  as  well  as  from 
the  camp.  The  night  was  clear,  and  at  about 
eleven  o'clock  the  whirr  of  a  motor  was 
heard  in  the  distance.  The  Doctor,  who  had 
returned  late  from  a  visit  to  a  sick  patient  in 
an  adjoining  village,  heard  it,  and  at  once  gave 
the  alarm.  Out  of  their  beds  tumbled  the 
sleepy  people  of  Fontanelle,  and,  wrapping 
themselves  in  blankets  or  any  garment  they 
could  snatch,  they  ran  out  of  doors  and 
gazed  anxiously  into  the  sky. 

Pierre  and  Pierrette,  with  their  parents 
and  grandparents,  were  among  the  first  to 
appear.  They  saw  the  black  speck  sail 
swiftly  from  the  east,  and  hover  like  a  bird 

188 


of  ill  omen  over  the  meadows.  No  alarm 
sounded  from  the  camp,  but  suddenly  from 
the  shadows  three  French  planes  shot  into 
the  air.  Two  at  once  engaged  the  enemy, 
while  a  third  cut  off  his  retreat.  The  battle 
was  soon  over.  There  were  sharp  reports 
of  guns  and  blinding  flashes  of  fire  as  the 
great  machines  whirled  and  maneuvered  in 
the  air,  and  then  the  German,  finding  him- 
self outnumbered  and  with  no  way  of  es- 
cape, came  to  earth  and  was  taken  prisoner. 

"Three  of 'em  bagged,  by  George,"  ex- 
claimed Jim  to  Uncle  Sam,  when  the  avi- 
ator was  safely  locked  up  in  the  guard- 
house, "and  all  due  to  the  pluck  and  sense 
of  those  two  kids.  If  it  had  n't  been  for 
them,  the  chances  are  we  'd  all  have  been 
ready  for  cold  storage  by  this  time.  They  've 
saved  the  camp  —  that '  s  what  they '  ve  done  1 
There  are  explosives  enough  stored  here 
to  have  blown  every  one  of  us  to  King- 
dom-come !  " 

"Right  you  are,  Jim,"  replied  Uncle 
Sam  with  hearty  emphasis,  "  we  surely  do 

189 


owe  them  something,  and  that's  a  cinch. 
Let's  talk  with  the  boys." 

That  night  Uncle  Sam  and  Jim  made 
eloquent  use  of  all  the  French  they  knew 
as  they  sat  about  the  camp-fire,  and  told 
the  story  of  Pierre  and  Pierrette  to  their 
comrades  in  arms.  Not  only  did  they  tell 
of  their  finding  the  spies  and  saving  the 
camp  from  destruction,  but  of  their  Father, 
wounded  at  the  Marne,  of  their  experience 
in  the  Cathedral  at  Rheims,  and  of  all  they 
had  suffered  there,  and  especially  of  their 
plucky  Mother  whose  spirit  no  misfortune 
could  break.  And  when  they  had  finished 
the  tale,  the  men  gave  such  a  hearty  cheer 
for  the  whole  Meraut  family  that  it  was 
heard  in  the  village  a  mile  away,  though 
no  one  there  had  the  least  idea  what  the 
noise  was  about. 

The  next  day  Uncle  Sam  and  Jim  ap- 
peared in  Fontanelle  and  told  the  story  of 
the  spies  to  the  Doctor  and  Mademoiselle, 
and  then  they  held  a  long  private  conference 
with  Mother  Meraut.    The  children  were 

190 


on  pins  and  needles  to  know  what  they 
were  talking  about,  and  why  Mother  Me- 
raut  looked  so  happy  afterward,  but  she  only 
shook  her  head  when  they  begged  her  to  tell 
them,  and  said,  "Some  day  you  '11  find  out." 

Two  days  later  an  orderly  rode  into  the 
Chateau  gate  on  horseback,  and  inquired 
for  Pierre  and  Pierrette  Meraut.  At  the 
moment  he  arrived  the  Twins  were  feeding 
the  rabbits,  but  they  came  running  to  the 
gate  when  their  Mother  called  them,  and 
the  orderly  handed  them  an  envelope  with 
their  names  on  it  in  large  letters.  The 
Twins  were  so  excited  they  could  hardly 
wait  to  know  what  was  inside.  They  had 
never  before  received  a  letter.  Their  Mother 
opened  it  and  read  the  contents  to  the  as- 
tonished children.    This  was  the  note:  — 

"  The  Commandant  and  men  of  the  For- 
eign Legion  request  the  pleasure  of  the 
company  of  Pierre  and  Pierrette  Meraut, 
and  of  all  the  people  of  Fontanelle   at   a 

birthday  party  to  be  held  at  Camp " 

(of  course  the  exact  name  of  the  camp  has 

191 


to  be  left  out  on  account  of  the  Censor) 
"  on  July  14th  at  4  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 
R.  S.  V.  P." 

The  eyes  of  Pierre  and  Pierrette  almost 
popped  out  of  their  heads  with  surprise. 
"Why,   Mother,"   they  cried,  "  that 's   our 

192 


birthday!  And  it's  Bastille  Day  too!  Do 
you  suppose  it  is  the  birthday  of  the  Com- 
mandant also?" 

"  Maybe,"  said  their  Mother,  smiling. 
"Anyway  it  is  the  birthday  of  our  dear 
France." 

The  orderly  smiled,  too,  and  touched  his 
hat.    "  Is  there  an  answer?"  he  asked. 

"There  will  be,"  said  Mother  Meraut, 
"but  first  the  others  must  be  told." 

The  Twins  ran  with  their  wonderful  let- 
ter to  the  dispensary  and  told  the  Doctor. 
Then  they  found  Mademoiselle,  who,  with 
Kathleen's  assistance,  was  putting  a  new 
tire  on  one  wheel  of  the  truck.  They  found 
Louise  mending  a  chicken-coop,  and  Mary 
and  Martha  sorting  supplies  in  the  store- 
room. They  found  all  the  other  people  of 
the  village,  some  in  the  garden  and  some 
working  elsewhere,  and  every  single  one 
said  they  should  be  delighted  to  go. 

■'  Now,"  said  Mademoiselle,  when  they 
returned  to  her  and  reported,  "  you  must 
write  your  acceptance." 

i93 


The  Twins  looked  blank.  "Can't  we 
just  tell  him?"  they  asked  anxiously.  "We 
can't  write  very  well  —  not  well  enough  to 
write  to  the  Commandant." 

"Oh,  but,"  said  Mademoiselle,  "I'm 
sure  he  will  expect  a  letter,  and  you  must 
just  write  the  very  best  you  can,  and  it  will 
be  good  enough,  I'm  sure.  Get  writing- 
materials,  and  I  will  help  you." 

At  her  direction  Pierre  brought  paper 
and  ink  from  her  little  house,  and  the  two 
children  sat  down  on  the  ground  beside  the 
truck 

194 


"  Now,  what  shall  we  say  ?  "  asked  Pier- 
rette. 

"I  know,"  said  Pierre;  "let's  say: 
4  Thank  you  for  asking  us  to  your  party. 
We  are  all  coming.  Amen  I '  Don't  you 
think  that  would  do?" 

Mademoiselle  bent  over  her  tire.  "Yes," 
she  said,  "  I  think  he  will  like  that,  but  I  'd 
both  sign  it  if  I  were  you." 

So  the  Twins  signed  it  and  put  it  in  an 
envelope  and  gave  it  to  the  orderly,  who 
promptly  put  it  in  his  pocket,  saluted, 
wheeled  his  horse,  and  galloped  away  toward 
camp. 

The  days  before  the  party  were  full  of 
excitement  for  the  Twins.  They  thought  of 
nothing  else,  and  how  strange  it  was  that 
Bastille  Day  and  the  Commandant's  birth- 
day both  should  be  the  same  as  theirs. 
Mother  Meraut  bought  some  cloth,  and 
made  Pierrette  a  new  dress,  and  Pierre  a 
new  blouse,  to  wear  on  the  great  occasion, 
and  when  the  day  finally  came,  the  chil- 
dren searched  the  fields  to  find  flowers  for 

i95 


a  bouquet  for  the  Commandant,  since  they 
had  no  other  birthday  gift  to  offer  him. 

At  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the 
whole  village  was  ready  to  start.  Mademoi- 
selle drove  the  truck  with  the  old  people  and 
little  children  sitting  in  it  on  heaps  of  straw. 
Kathleen  was  the  driver  of  the  Ford  car,  and 
had  as  passengers  Father  Meraut,  because 
he  was  lame,  and  Grandpere  because  he  was 
Grandpere,  and  the  Twins  because  it  was 
their  birthday ;  and  everybody  else  walked. 

When  they  reached  the  camp,  they  found 
Jim  and  Uncle  Sam  ready  to  act  as  guard 
of  honor  to  conduct  them  to  the  Comman- 
dant, who,  with  the  Captain  beside  him, 
waited  to  receive  them  beside  the  flag- 
staff at  the  reviewing-stand  of  the  parade- 
ground.  It  seemed  very  strange  to  Pierre 
and  Pierrette  that  they  should  walk  before 
their  parents,  and  even  before  the  Doctor 
and  Mademoiselle,  but  Uncle  Sam  and  Jim 
arranged  the  procession,  and  placed  them 
at  its  head.  So,  carrying  their  bouquet 
of  flowers,  they  followed  obediently  where 

196 


their  escort  led.  "  Now,  kids,"  said  Uncle 
Sam  in  a  low  voice  as  they  neared  the  re- 
viewing-stand,  "walk  right  up  and  mind 
your  manners.  Salute  and  give  him  the 
bouquet,  and  speak  your  piece." 

"We  haven't  any  piece  to  speak,"  qua- 
vered Pierrette,  very  much  frightened,  "  ex- 
cept to  wish  him  many  happy  returns  of  his 
birthday." 

Uncle  Sam's  eyes  twinkled.  "  That'll  do 
all  right,"  he  said ;  only  of  course  he  said 
it  in  French. 

The  regiment  was  massed  before  the  re- 
viewing-stand  as  the  little  company  came 
forward  to  meet  their  host,  and  when  at  last 
Pierre  and  Pierrette  stood  before  the  Com- 
mandant, with  the  beautiful  flag  of  France 
floating  over  them,  though  they  had  been 
fearless  under  shell-fire,  their  knees  knocked 
together  with  fright,  and  it  was  in  a  very 
small  voice  that  they  said,  together,  "  Bon- 
jour,  Monsieur  le  Commandant,  accept 
these  flowers  and  our  best  wishes  for  many 
happy  returns  of  your  birthday." 

197 


The  Commandant  took  the  flowers  and 
smiled  down  at  them.  "  It  is  not  my  birth- 
day, my  little  ones,"  he  said  gently,  "it  is 
the  birthday  of  our  glorious  France  and 
of  two  of  her  brave  soldiers,  Pierre  and 
Pierrette  Meraut,  as  well,  and  the  Foreign 

198 


Legion  is  here  to  celebrate  it!  Come  up 
here  beside  me."  He  drew  them  up  beside 
him  on  the  reviewing-stand  and  turned 
their  astonished  faces  toward  the  regiment. 

"Men  of  the  Foreign  Legion,"  he  said, 
"  these  are  the  children  who  discovered  two 
spies,  and  by  reporting  them  saved  our  camp 
from  probable  destruction."  Then,  turning 
again  to  the  children,  he  said:  "  By  your 
prompt  and  intelligent  action  you  have  pre- 
vented a  terrible  catastrophe.  In  recognition 
of  your  services  the  Foreign  Legion  desires 
to  make  you  honorary  members  of  the  regi- 
ment, and  France  is  proud  to  claim  you  as 
her  children!  "  Then  he  pinned  upon  their 
breasts  a  cockade  of  blue,  white,  and  red, 
the  colors  of  France,  and  kissed  them  on 
both  cheeks,  the  regiment  meanwhile  stand- 
ing at  attention. 

When  he  had  finished  the  little  ceremony, 
the  men,  responding  to  a  signal  from  the 
Captain,  burst  into  a  hearty  cheer.  "Vive 
Pierre  !  Vive  Pierrette !  Vive  tous  les  Me- 
raut,"  they  cried. 

199 


For  a  moment  the  Twins  stood  stunned, 
petrified  with  astonishment,  looking  at  the 
cheering  men  and  at  the  proud  upturned 
faces  of  their  parents  and  the  people  of  Fon- 
tanelle.  Then  Pierre  was  suddenly  inspired. 
He  waved  his  hat  in  salutation  to  the  flag 
which  floated  above  them  and  shouted  back 
to  the  regiment,  "Vive  la  France!"  and 
Pierrette  saluted  and  kissed  her  hand.  Then 
the  band  struck  up  the  Marseillaise,  and 
everybody  sang  it  at  the  top  of  his  lungs. 

It  was  a  wonderful  golden  time  that  fol- 
lowed, for  when  the  children  had  thanked 
the  Commandant,  all  the  people  of  Fonta- 
nelle  were  invited  to  sit  on  the  reviewing- 
stand  and  watch  the  regiment  go  through 
the  regular  drill  and  extra  maneuvers  in 
honor  of  the  day,  and  when  that  was  over, 
the  guests  were  escorted  back  to  the  mess 
tent,  and  there  they  had  supper  with  the 
men.  Moreover,  the  camp  cook  had  made 
a  magnificent  birthday  cake,  all  decorated 
with  little  French  flags.  It  was  cut  with 
the  Captain's  own  sword,  and  though  there 

200 


was  n't  enough  for  the  whole  regiment, 
every  one  from  Fontanelle  had  a  bite,  and 
Pierre  and  Pierrette  each  had  a  whole  piece. 

When  the  beautiful  bright  day  was  over 
and  they  were  back  again  in  Fontanelle, 
the  Twins  found  that  even  this  was  not  the 
end  of  their  joy  and  good  fortune,  for  Mother 
Meraut  told  them  that  the  regiment  had  put 
in  her  care  a  sum  of  money  to  provide  for 
their  education.  ''Children  of  such  courage 
and  good  sense  must  be  well  equipped  to 
serve  their  country  when  they  grow  up," 
the  Commandant  had  said,  and  the  men, 
responding  to  his  appeal,  had  put  their  hands 
in  their  pockets  and  brought  out  a  sum  suf- 
ficient to  make  such  equipment  possible. 

More  than  that,  Uncle  Sam  and  Jim  had 
two  small  uniforms  made  for  them,  —  only 
Pierrette's  had  a  longer  skirt  to  the  coat, — ■ 
and  on  parade  days  and  other  great  occa- 
sions they  wore  them  to  the  camp,  with  the 
blue,  white,  and  red  cockades  pinned  proudly 
upon  their  breasts.  Indeed,  they  became 
the  friends  and  pets  of  the  whole  regiment, 

201 


and  were  quite  as  much  at  home  with  the 
soldiers  as  with  the  people  of  Fontanelle. 

Then  one  day  Uncle  Sam  had  a  letter 
from  home  in  which  there  was  wonderful 
news.  It  said  that  the  city  of  Rheims  had 
been  "adopted"  by  the  great,  rich  city  of 
Chicago  far  away  across  the  seas,  and  that 
some  happy  day  when  the  war  should  be 
over  and  peace  come  again  to  the  distracted 
world,  Rheims  should  rise  again  from  its 
ashes,  rebuilt  by  its  American  friends. 

In  this  hope  the  Twins  still  live  and  work, 
performing  their  duties  faithfully  each  day, 
like  good  soldiers,  and  praying  constantly 
to  the  Bon  Dieu  and  their  adored  Saint 
Jeanne  that  the  blessings  which  have  come 
to  them  may  yet  come  also  to  all  theii 
beloved  France. 


o 


o 


